


Falling Star

by junipersand



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Past Reveal, badboyhalo does a lot of oopsies, healer!bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25934248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipersand/pseuds/junipersand
Summary: Bad's been alone ever since he and Skeppy went their separate ways.[discontinued due to drama-related reasons]
Relationships: Gen. Fic
Comments: 75
Kudos: 510





	1. AN

If you are not comfortable with a6d being in the fic, please head to the chapter index and search for the rewrite. Thank you!


	2. AN

“The older an angel or a demon, the stronger they get. As a demon dies, their power and lifeforce is distributed to their kind evenly…”

George leaned over to the book in Dream’s hands, clearly skeptical of the knowledge. Unlike his leader, he was browsing through the armor stalls, waiting for Sapnap and Bad to return from their side-quests.

“That’s baloney. They don’t even exist,” he vamped, taking the book for himself. He read the cover. It was hardback, made of leather and tied with string. It looked old, and its pages were falling apart. The scriptures inside were scratchy, as if written with a quill. “What’s this? A storybook?”

Dream snatched the book back, but careful to not damage it. “It’s something I found at the library. I thought it had information on the Ender Dragon, so I bought it.” He flipped through more pages. “There’s detailed information here. They’re too real to be fake.”

George rolled his eyes, adjusting his goggles. Dream never asked why he even wore them—as far as he knows, George isn’t a mechanic, nor does he have poor eyesight. It would be awkward if he asked and the answer was because it looked cool. “Or maybe some author just had a _really_ wild imagination.” He put two fingers up on his temples, mimicking a demon’s horns. “And has a fetish for hot demon girls.”

“Hey!” a voice cut through their conversation. It was Bad, carrying a sack of god-knows-what on his shoulder. “That’s really offensive to the demons!”

Dream scoffed. He closed his book. “Bad, calm down. It’s just a story.”

Bad’s eyes widened. He was unusual for a healer. He had ashen grey skin and silver eyes. Sometimes his eyes would reflect light and it would look like he had no irises at all. As of now, his expression was one of disbelief, his eyebrows furrowed at the two.

“What do you mean, _just a story_?” Bad demanded, setting down the sack by his feet. Vials of healing potions spilled from the bag. “You people have no respect for demonkind. Or do you think angels are some pretty boys wearing halos with golden curls too?”

George and Dream exchanged glances. Their eyes were hidden under their goggles and mask, but Bad was positively offended. Honestly, it was like going on a field trip with a mom! A dangerous trip to slay the ender dragon and end the mobs’ tyranny, but with a mom nonetheless.

George raised a finger. “Should I answer that, or no?”

Bad threw his hands into the air, and clutched the sides of his head. “I can’t believe you! You—you _potatoes!_ You absolute muffins! _”_

Coming from Bad, that was a serious insult. After all, Bad was the one who called the hoglins _“Stupid potatoes”_ when they ran over his netherwart.

Dream put his hand on Bad’s shoulder. “Bad, calm down. It’s just a story. No need to get so worked up about it.”

Bad snapped to him, looking like he was about to bust out the ever-so offending _gosh darns,_ but his eyes caught something else that diverted his attention. His gaze was fixated on the book in Dream’s hands, his eyes widening in shock. Like a sly fox, he stole the book from the knight’s hands, and held it as if it were precious gold, back turned on the duo.

Dream and George exchanged gazes. Great. Their healer officially lost his mind. They wondered if they could get Bad to cast healing magic on his own sanity.

Abruptly, the healer spun towards them, clutching the book close to his chest like it was his final lifeline. “Where’d you find this?” he asked almost desperately. “I’ve been looking at it for years!”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “Looking for a storybook? Bad, you must be some big fan—”

“This isn’t a storybook, you muffin!” Bad snapped, opening the book. “This is a _history_ book! This is one of the only copies left. I think the rest burned in a fire when the Spirit Revolution happened. Or was that the Warlock era? I don’t know anymore. I forget sometimes.” He squinted at the first page. His eyes widened even further. “Oh my GOODNESS! This isn’t _just_ a history book! It contains information about every Celestial race! This is even better than I expected!”

“Bad, please. You need to wake the fuck up—”

“LAH LAH LAH LAH LAH, I CAN’T HEAR YOU! _LANGUAGE!”_

He started reading right there and then. He squatted by his spilling sack, and muttered to himself as he flipped through the pages, eyes flying over the scriptures.

George sighed. “Let’s go find Sapnap. I think I lost my only two braincells.”

“Yeah. I agree.” Dream nodded. He adjusted the sheath on his waist. When he agreed to let Bad join their little team, he didn’t recall the man being delusional. Maybe he’s just a closeted bookworm. He turned to Bad, poking his waist with his boot. “Bad. Let’s go. We’re wasting daylight.”

Bad didn’t react. He stopped turning pages. His eyes were fixated on a line of words, with a drawing at the bottom. His body was tense. His fingers were shaking.

Dream frowned, concerned. Bad wouldn’t ignore anyone even in battle. He got himself into difficult situations because he couldn’t bring himself to overlook a crying call. “Bad?”

“They’re all gone.”

George blinked. “Who’s gone?”

“They’re all gone,” Bad muttered, shaking. Dream squatted down beside him, glancing at the drawing. It depicted heaven and hell, overrun by humans who wielded bloody weapons and armor. Broken halos, horns and feathers littered the ground. It looked like a child’s drawing. “Everyone—they’re _gone.”_

“Bad, speak to me.” Dream shook Bad’s shoulder, but he wasn’t reacting. His eyes were wide with fear. His silver eyes looked pure white. His glasses had fallen to the ground. “We faced more dangerous threats. You can’t lose yourself over a story.”

Bad spun towards him, furious. There were tears in his eyes. This wasn’t the first time Bad’s cried before. He cried when Sapnap killed his pet fish Squeegee. He cried when a child called him scary. He even cried when he dropped a cookie on the ground by accident. But this was a different type of crying. He was crying because he was _angry,_ and BadBoyHalo was never truly angry.

“THIS ISN’T A STORY!” Bad screamed, standing. “This is a book about MY people! I spent millennia trying to find my way back home, but it turns out I don’t HAVE one anymore!”

“Your people? Bad, you’re not making any sense!” George rebutted. “Are you okay in the head? We can go get a healer. What poisonous mushrooms did you take this time?”

Dream shot George a glare, even if he knew his friend was serious. It wasn’t the first time where one of them consumed poisonous mushrooms and ended up hallucinating. The last time it happened, Dream nearly threw their pot of stew into the abyss, claiming that he was feeding the gods. Sapnap had whacked him over the head with the flat of his blade, and George straight up slapped him.

“You—what—I—” Bad sputtered, barely forming coherent words. Book or not, his anger and frustration was genuine. He turned strangely quiet. “I should have known,” he muttered. “All this time, and I can’t even find a _trace_ of someone like me. Of course it’s humans. It’s always because of humans.”

Dream and George remained silent.

“Now _you two—_ ” Bad pointed at them, his teeth grit. “ _Please._ Stop disrespecting Celestial culture. It’s real, whether if you like it or not.”

Despite the book upsetting him, he kept it anyways. He slid it into his jacket and picked up his rucksack. “Come on. Sapnap’s probably waiting for us.” He slid his bag over his shoulder, and walked past the two.

For once, the horns on his head didn’t look like decorations at all. Those sharp, pointed horns the color of blood.

* * *

“Yo, Bad. You alright?” Sapnap slid by the man, grunting as he’d just finished dinner. Usually Bad would be the one who cooked the meals, but tonight it was Dream and George’s collective effort. Sapnap swore he saw something swimming in that stew. It tasted fine, but if Sapnap wakes up with a tentacle piercing through his stomach, he’ll know who to haunt after death. “Dream told me you were out of it today.”

Bad kept his eyes on the river. They were far from their camp, and Bad’s dark clothing and skin made it difficult for anyone to track him. His hair and skin were the same ashen grey, so it was difficult to tell apart where the hair started and where the skin ended. He could shave himself bald and no one would notice a thing.

In the night, his eyes were the color of liquid moon.

“What do you think I am, Sapnap?”

Sapnap hummed, sticking his bare feet in the river. It was cool, and sometimes fish would swim around his toes. “Is that a trick question?”

“I’m serious.” He sounded tired.

“Hm,” Sapnap mulled over. “You’re BadBoyHalo. The biggest crybaby I’ve ever met, who has emotional attachments to a salmon. And you somehow have a dagger fetish.”

Normally, Bad would chide him out for the use of vulgar language, but he was uncharacteristically silent.

“I see.” His tone was one of disappointment.

Sapnap turned to him. “What do you want me to answer, then?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve been trying to keep secret, but I guess you muffins think that these are just for show.” He flicked one of his horns. It stuck through the hood’s fabric, which was what kept it on 24/7. Sapnap just thought he superglued it to his hair. “I’m a Celestium, Sapnap. I would say I’m a demon, but I’m starting to question that, too. The angels are all dead with no surviving angel. By logic, I’m the only one alive to inherit their power.”

“Bad?”

“Hm?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“No, no—” Sapnap scooted away from the healer, suddenly wary of the man’s existence. If what Bad said was true, then so many questions would be answered. Why Bad kept in touch with Technoblade’s descendants; why Bad could read ancient texts from an Enchantment Table; or why Bad was so disinterested in anything but trivial matters. But… why? Why now? “Do… _celestiums_ have a different age, or something? Dream told me the Celestium Age was like a billion years ago.”

Bad sighed. “I don’t know how long it was ago. I’m not good with numbers,” he admitted. “I’m 25; at least physically. Hypothetically? I’m 22,000… no, 25,000 or something. I don’t keep track of the actual time. But does that matter?”

Sapnap rose to his feet, alarmed, but the back of his foot caught onto a branch, causing him to lose his balance. With a yelp, he fell backwards, landing into a bush of strawberries.

“YOU’RE _WHAT?”_ Sapnap demanded. “Of course that matters! You didn’t tell us? How are you so old? You can live forever? How does that WORK?”

“Sapnap, quiet! Are you planning to wake the whole forest, you muffinhead?”

“AND WHY DO YOU CALL PEOPLE ‘MUFFINHEADS’?”

“Sapnap—”

“YOU’RE SO OLD! I CAN’T—”

_SLAP._

Sapnap rubbed his cheek. It burned from the slap. Still disorientated, he glanced up to Bad, who was glaring daggers at him, his hand held out as he’s the one who administered the slap. The cure to all panics.

“You calm now?”

Sapnap nodded.

“Celestiums don’t live forever,” Bad continued, after they calmed down. George had come to check up on them, but was chased away by Sapnap. “If a demon or angel dies, their lifeforce is evenly distributed to the rest of their kind.”

Sapnap’s mind slowly picked up the pieces. He might not be aware of the world’s history, but he knew this much. Demons and Angels were depicted to be walking gods on Earth. And if Bad lived so long, then…

“Oh.” Sapnap’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Bad.”

“Don’t apologize, you muffin.” Bad brushed his bangs from his eyes. He adjusted his glasses. “I don’t have many memories of that time. All I know is that we were the dominant species of the planet, considering…” He looked down to his boots. “Me.”

“That means you have the power of every angel and demon, right?”

“Angel-wise, I’m not sure. But I guess so.”

“Then why is your magic so…” Sapnap struggled to find the words. “So _bad?”_

Bad looked at his hands. “That’s because even if I may have the powers of all the angels, I’m still born a demon.” He put them in his jacket. “Demons and healing don’t mix. Trust me, my magic used to be worse. It took me three hours just to heal a papercut. Now, I can heal minor wounds in minutes.”

Bad smiled painfully. “That’s progress, I suppose.”

Sapnap nodded, almost regretting that he touched the subject. Still, he had one more question.

“You said you were in another team before. How long was that ago?”

Facing this question, Bad blinked at him, taken off-guard. Then, he smiled, chuckling dryly. It was like the memories were fond, but bittersweet.

“I dunno. When I was eighteen-thousand years old? Maybe?” Bad laid on the ground, with his hands still in his pockets. “Their names are Skeppy and A6D. Skeppy was a gemhuman. He’s literally made of diamonds. Because of that, he’s always targeted because people wanted to break him. A6D is a Spirit. He can possess people and make them do the chicken dance and stuff. We travelled together for a while. For 700 years, give or take.”

“Do they know you’re a… _whatever_ you are?”

“They do.”

“And what was their reaction?”

Bad shuddered. “Not good.”

Sapnap nodded, but his mind wandered elsewhere. What the hell?! Bad’s old team sounded like a supernatural circus. Humans dominated the world these days, but magical beasts and beings existed. Most of them were wiped out or chose to stay in isolation. Bad was a supernatural being himself, and his old team were too. He didn’t know how Bad felt after travelling to slay the ender dragon with three humans, and he’s not sure if he wanted to know.

Then again, they’ve been trolling him since forever! If he was a bad person, they would all be six feet under.

“Wait.” Sapnap noticed something. “You said ‘are.’”

Bad made a noise in his throat. “Yeah? Why?” he asked, as if Sapnap’s the one asking stupid questions. “They’re still alive. You know my quest earlier where I had to save a haunted village?” Sapnap nodded again. “We did it together. Skeppy’s the one that chose the quest.”


	3. Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is some history with Bad, A6d and Skeppy. More insight will be provided in future chapters, so keep an eye out for them! :D

The many times Bad’s magic went haywire, and the one time they wished it did. Skeppy knew his friend was the closest thing to an immortal, but his skills in healing were just as crap as a toddler. Heck, even a dedicated duck could do his job better than him. Still, Bad was an irreplaceable friend, and he wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Even if his magic was really shit.

“Hey, guys!” Bad exclaimed, running over from a nearby house. His clothes were caked in dust, and whenever he breathed out, dust flew from his breath. Holding his sword close, Skeppy took steps back, staring at his friend incredulously. “Look at this! I just vanquished an evil ghost with a spell. An actual  _ spell!” _

A6d scoffed, crossing his arms. One of his arrows fell from his quiver. “You’re a Priest, Bad. Aren’t ghosts supposed to be easy for you?”

Bad shot him a look. “You know my magic is like a potato, you muffinhead. Just LOOK!”

He held out his finger to a possessed lamp post. Ghosts can possess anything if they put their minds to it, apparently. Not to confuse spirits with ghosts—Spirits can only possess living creatures, and Ghosts can only possess inanimate objects. Another difference between them was that A6d was one of the last few spirits left. Ghosts ran rampant in just about everywhere.

The Priest glared at his stationery target, his face scrunched in utmost concentration, large beads of sweat rolling down his cheek. He grunted, like he was actually struggling to cast a low-tier exorcism spell, and continued to produce nothing.

Skeppy and A6d stood on both sides, their attentions elsewhere. A6d used wandering ghosts as target practice, firing arrow after arrow. His quiver was already beginning to see the bottom. Skeppy, on the other hand, thrust his sword’s blade into the ground and leaned on the handle as he yawned. After minutes, Bad was still focused on his feeble attempt of magic, never once relenting. If he would pick up an enchanted sword and start swinging it around like a banshee, they’d be done in an hour, tops.

“Bad,” Skeppy deadpanned, glancing at the healer. “You need to stop. We killed everything else already! I wanna go back home!”

A measly light flickered at Bad’s fingertip. It was a dim, grey light that couldn’t be classified as light. “I almost got it, Skeppy! Just wait!” His face brightened as the magic began to grow, even if it was growing at the pace of a zombie’s intelligence. “Look! Look at this!” he cried out of excitement, the orb of magic now large enough to shoot. “And… bye bye, ghosty!”

The magic shot from his finger like a precise laser, only for it to turn into mist after it left his hand. The lamp post remained unaffected, still possessed by a ghost.

Bad deflated. With a loud groan, he collapsed face-first into a pile of dry grass, still groaning. Skeppy cut the lamp post in two, forcing the ghost out, and A6d shot it with his enchanted bow. The ghost shrieked and turned into air.

It took longer than they expected, mostly because of Bad, but it was still a fun get together. Even if Bad did almost nothing.

Skeppy squatted down to Bad, who refused to get up. His limbs were sprawled out like he was a child throwing a tantrum. The gemhuman hoisted his sword over his shoulder, snickering. Under the sun, his translucent diamond body glittered through delicate fractals.

“Come on, Bad. You know you can’t use light magic. Stop kidding yourself.”

Bad made a noise in his throat. He pushed himself up, glaring at his friend. “There’s no such thing as  _ light _ magic!” he snapped. “Magic is magic! I just need more practice.”

“If there isn’t, Bad, you wouldn’t be struggling so much.” A6d slung his bow around his chest, crossing his arms. His skin was light grey, his eyes covered by a mask. It was the traditional wear of his people, but his era was long over. He hadn’t seen another Spirit in centuries.

“It’s only for now! I’ll get the hang of magic, and I’ll find my home! I’m sure of it!”

“Give it up, Bad.” Skeppy’s features hardened, standing. He sheathed his sword, hiding the blade that was made of the same thing he was. Diamonds; cold, beautiful, and unbreakable. “We’re in a different era now. Besides, you’re travelling with humans! Aren’t you supposed to help defeat the ender dragon or something?”

Despite A6d’s irritated demeanor, he helped Bad up to his feet, offering a hand for the demon. “He’s right, Bad.” A6d released his hand, shaking off dry grass and dirt from his palm. “I know you still can’t let go of your time, but you’ve got to move on. You’ve been going at this before we even met.”

“I can’t just give up!” Bad snapped. “I’ve been finding so many clues recently. When we travelled to The Diamond Minecart and Stampy’s borders, I saw a weapon that angels used: a gold staff with a jewel.” He looked to his feet. “It was destroyed, of course. My team thought it was old junk. But I could still traces of magic on it. A Celestial’s weapons can’t be held by another, whether if it’s broken. If I can hold it and not them, it means that…”

_ That whoever owned it was long dead _ .

“It’s just a coincidence, maybe,” Bad muttered. He sounded tired, like he was trying to convince himself, and not them.

_ Maybe. _

As they ventured back to the village, they parted ways at the guild hall. Skeppy left to his craftsman work, Bad looked for Dream and the others, and A6d continued to wander the world alone. They didn’t know when they would meet again, but they prayed that they’ll survive for the next time.

* * *

Bad, in his few thousand years with Skeppy and A6d’s travels, lost control only once.

As incompetent Bad’s magic appeared to be, his true nature was much more sinister and malicious than who he was now. As the final demon who inherited countless deceased demon’s power and lifeforce, he was bound to have some sort of hidden potential. The only concern was:

_ Demons and healing don’t mix _ .

Compared to angels, demons were a race where magic was more advanced than anything else. Demons were considered so vain and vicious because of their magic and alchemy. Angels were orientated on combative areas, but they couldn’t harm another living being. While demons used their magic to harm, angels used their strength to protect. It was an eternal deadlock between the two.

Bad, the last Celestial being, was forced to inherit the angels’ powers as well as the demons. For years, he tried to combine both sides as one, so he could gain the power to look for his people. However, magic and strength do not mix, so he always failed. He’d come to realize that it was an impossible task.

Until he, Skeppy, and A6d tried to kill the Wither.

Unlike the ender dragon, the Wither was ruthless. While the dragon remained in his own dimension causing next to no harm, the Wither came to be one of the largest threats of humanity. They were sent on this deadly quest, as they were a well-known team for their dynamic and deeds. Skeppy kept joking about the Wither’s three heads, and asking where the food would go if it were to eat something. What happens if one of you needed the toilet? What happens if you three develop crushes on different people? Nobody appreciated his jokes. A6d jabbed his rear with an arrow.

At first, things were going fine. They were off to kill the Wither, bringing only their usual gear and some golden apples. They didn’t think much of it, because they’d faced worse threats. They’d taken down armies sent from CaptainSparklez’s resistance. They’d helped reclaim Pat and Jen’s country when it was overrun with mobs. They’d even helped look for a very dangerous squid, who was just lonely and wanted to play cards. (The squid called himself Ballistic.) This would be a piece of cake!

It turned out to be the worst decision they’d ever made in their near-immortal lives.

The Wither was like no other beast they faced. They were the first ones to face it after a rogue alchemist summoned it by accident, opting to resurrect the dead. What he got instead was a decaying monster that razed everything in its past. Still, Skeppy raised his sword, A6d nocked his bow, and Bad prepared some insults to throw at the wither. At the time, Bad was even more useless with healing magic. He settled with throwing potions whenever they needed it to be helpful.

Skeppy could recall the moment the world went dark. When a wither skull was fired directly at him, his limbs too limp for him to dodge, he was struck with the wither’s devastating effect. He should have died then. Even diamonds can’t withstand a direct attack from a being that knows nothing but decay. Somewhere around him, he heard A6d scream, followed by a thud.

_ They failed _ .

They failed. They were all going to die. Bad must be so scared right now, and he was alone. He remembered thinking:  _ guess I’ll see them on the other side _ as he closed his eyes, embracing the sweet grace of death.

Instead, what he was met with was something not death.

It was Bad’s voice, howling in heartbreaking agony. Skeppy managed to open his eyes, to be greeted with a horrific scene.

Bad fell to his knees as he held his head, the ground around him turning to ash. The Wither was onto him now, shooting withering rays and summoning undead skeletons, but they couldn’t approach him. Forms of flesh burst through his jacket like a bloody shower, with four wings freshly sprouted in a spray of blood and flesh. They were equal in size, but they were different. A pair of angel and demon wings each, appearing on the same person and on the same time. His horn glowed crimson red, and the form of a bright gold halo materialized atop his head.

With a guttural cry, Bad rose from the ground, his bloody wings spread out and eyes glowing white. Wielding a rapier in one hand and magic in the other, he charged straight towards the Wither, and that was all Skeppy could recall. He couldn’t hear the Wither’s screeches of pain as Bad slashed, ending the fight in only seconds.

The power that Bad held was tremendous. Like a God’s. Even in his delirious moments, he acknowledged that.

When he awoke again, he was on a bed, being treated in a human village. His left arm was severed, with jagged ends of gemstone poking from the stub. His arm was set by his bedside, untouched, and perhaps even touched up and polished. The withered areas were chipped off and replaced with more diamond pieces.

A6d was in worse shape than him. Spirits held more lifeforce than any other creature, so the wither effect must have really gotten to him. He was doing better than before, as he was soaking in a tub of holy water with a mix of ghast tears.

Bad, on the other hand…

“Skeppy, I’m so sorry!” he cried, holding the gemhuman’s intact hand. “I should have done something—I should have at least tried to get there in time with milk! No, wait, I could’ve—”

“Bad,” Skeppy interrupted him, his onyx eyes pinning his friend’s form. “What happened to the Wither? Did you…?”

Bad froze, as if he’s been put in a spot. He fell quiet, keeping his eyes on the wool blanket. It was red. “It’s dead,” he said, digging into his pocket. “It dropped this. I don’t know what it does, but it looks important.”

In his palm, he held out a glowing, four-pointed star. Its light was delicate, framing Bad’s ashen hand with a cloud of silver.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Skeppy admitted.

“Neither have I,” Bad echoed. “Maybe we can make something out of this. Like a weapon or a projectile.”

Skeppy snorted. “After you saw what the Wither could do? No thanks,” he retorted. Bad chuckled and kept it in his pocket. The atmosphere lightened up, but it dropped as soon as they approached the winning question.

“I know what you’re thinking, Skeppy.”

“What? No, you don’t.” Skeppy turned to him in shock. Bad wasn’t meeting his eyes. “What was  _ that _ ? You did say you were a demon, but I never really believed it until… you know _. _ ”

Bad laced his fingers together. He wasn’t wearing his usual clothes, but instead a shirt and shorts. His red horns were sharper than before.

“I guess it’s just me being overwhelmed.” Bad’s voice cracked. “I thought I was going to lose you and A6d.” He glanced at the Spirit, who was still unresponsive in the shallow tub. A healer was pouring a vial of ghast tears into the water, causing it to glow a faint pink. “That’s the only answer I can give you.  _ I _ don’t even know what I did.”

“You were terrifying,” Skeppy said. “I don’t remember much, but—you looked like an actual Celestial, and I’ve never met one before. How come you never used it power all this time?”

“Hey, Skeppy, did you know the Capital’s going to throw us a party?” Bad lit up. “We’re going to be crowned dukes or knights or something like that. Maybe you could even marry a princess or a prince. I’m supportive of you either way, Skeppy, but please don’t crash the party like how you did to Stampy’s. We’re on enough hitlists already.”

“Bad—”

“Ooh! Maybe I’ll get to eat lots and lots of cakes there. And A6d can get to sing in front of everyone, if he doesn’t chicken out so much.”

_ “Bad—” _

“Then! Maybe we’ll meet Technoblade! Oh, the king of the agriculture kingdom. I heard his country’s baked goods are legendary! Do you think they’ll import some cookies while they’re at it?”

“BAD!”

Bad shut up. He simmered down and shriveled into his disorientated self.

“Bad, I need to know what happened.”

The demon didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Skeppy didn’t push. A6d doesn’t know about Bad’s outburst, and they kept it that way. Keeping it a secret between themselves was difficult, since A6d was a close teammate, but Bad was insistent on the fact.

They kept it to themselves for another few thousand years, until they separated and went their own ways. Even the most exciting of adventures would go stale. They’d laugh, they’d talk and share a beer or two. But the secret remained.

Even as Bad’s new journey with his human companions were going on for months now, and they haven’t the slightest clue of what he truly was, even if he didn’t hide anything on purpose.

Little do they know, that little star from thousands of years ago, would bring dire consequences to the one who still holds it.


	4. Avenge Me

The last time they went to the nether, they were ambushed by a horde of ghasts. So not only did they not get what they went there for, they were forced to retreat, and the nether portal was destroyed in the process. Now, armed to the teeth, Dream determined that now is the prime time to go hunt some blaze rods.

“The nearest nether portal is…” George squinted at the map, barely reading the small characters on the piece of paper. Despite their adventures, there were still countries he’s never heard of before. He turned to the rest of his team. “Has anyone been to ‘Gateau’ before?”

Dream shot him an incredulous look. With his iron sword in toll, he looked like he was about to disembowel him for such a question. “Dude,” he said carefully, disbelief dripping in his tone. “That’s, like, the oldest kingdom in the world. How have you not heard of it?”

A cry of shock shifted their attention to the healer. Across the floor were shards and glowing liquid, the vial shattered upon impact. Bathed in healing potions, the dead flowers bloomed bright red, restored to its former glory.

“Gateau!?” Bad choked on air. His dark skin turned a shade lighter. “Let’s not go there, please!”

“Why not?” Sapnap frowned. “Did you steal a muffin from a bakery two thousand years ago and never paid them back?”

Bad glared at him. “That’s dumb! I always pay for whatever I take,” he argued. “But seriously. Can’t we just take a detour to some other kingdom? Like the beautiful Patate that Technoblade governs!”

“That’s going to take at least a month!” George rebutted. “Gateau is only two days of waking. I’d like to kill the ender dragon as soon as I can.”

“Then why can’t we just make our own nether portal? Why do we have to use some kingdom’s?”

“Because it’s illegal,” Dream explained. “Hundreds of years ago, every kingdom agreed to forbid any adventurer from making portals because it’s disturbing the nether’s ecosystem. Though I’m not sure _why_ they would want to go to the nether, but…”

Bad turned another shade lighter. He looked like he was about to pull his hood over his face and scream into the void.

Dream sighed. “Bad, if anything happens, we’ll protect you, okay? No need to worry about it.”

That didn’t help his case, but it was settled. Bad spent the night curled up on the floor, muttering incoherent sentences to himself as he hugged his knees. Sapnap patted his shoulder to make him feel better. At times, he would produce high-pitched radio frequencies that hurt their ears, but they were more curious as to why he was capable of such noise with just his mouth and vocal cords.

Throughout the next two days, it was just 48 hours of listening to Bad going through his midlife existential crisis. At one point, George caught him writing letters and sending them off via birds. (Who does that?) Bad was nearly in tears as he let the parrot memorize the letter, and refused to get up when the parrot left to find its recipient. Who was he even writing to? The cemetery so they can prepare a grave with the name BadBoyHalo?

Sapnap sighed in exasperation. “Bad, calm down. We’re not going to let you die!”

“I’M GOING TO DIE EITHER WAY, YOU MUFFINHEADS!”

Bad broke down into tears as he sent another message via bird. The bird glared at him, as if it didn’t get enough seeds to deal with the role of the guy’s messenger.

Finally, the dreaded day arrived. With sweat soaking through their clothes, with their bags heavier than usual, they stared at the gate, which was taller and wider than anything they’ve ever seen. When they looked to the right, the wall reached further than their vision could reach. The gate was wide open, but it looked intimidating and unwelcoming with the guards standing by.

Expectedly, Bad held onto Dream’s jacket, his entire body quivering and tears springing to his eyes. He wore his hood lower than usual.

“We’re going to find an inn for the day, and we’re going to meet the king tomorrow,” Dream said to them, earning nods from everyone but Bad. “No one leave Bad by himself.” Nods from George and Sapnap.

They entered the city. Even though they only travelled for a few minutes, the town was unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. The buildings were diverse; some made of wood and bamboo, and some made of brick and concrete. On the streets were a mix modern lamp posts and traditional red lanterns. The people were wearing heavy gowns, suits, yukatas or kimonos. Only few wore modern clothing like them.

It was like they’ve entered an entirely new world.

Dream glanced at a nearby merchant. He noticed that they didn’t use iron or gold to trade. They used coins in colors of black, grey and blue, which they didn’t have. They might need to find a currency trader soon, or they’ll be sleeping out in the streets.

“Bad, you’ve been here before, right?” Dream asked Bad, who was still holding onto his arm like a scared puppy. “Do you know where we can get this country’s money?”

Bad yelped, releasing a high-pitched frequency from his throat. Dream’s ears stung.

“I—I think there’s one at the center of town,” he whimpered, shivering even more now.

Dream turned to George and Sapnap. “Then that’s where we’re going. Since we don’t know this country, we won’t split up just yet.”

“I’m cool with it.” George shrugged. “As long as Cryboyhalo doesn’t run off crying again.”

Usually, Bad would be furious, but he was too caught up in his own world of anxiety to care.

As they continued, they realized that this country’s security was tight. Guards patrolled every street without fail. There were snow and iron golems everywhere in case someone ever tried to steal something. Even children had golden apples attached to their necklaces in case of an emergency.

It looked to be golden applies were vastly common in this country. That meant the gold supply had to be tremendous to be distributed so freely for the citizens. No wonder they weren’t using gold or iron for trades. They had too much of it that they could use expensive golems for personal security.

“Yo, Bad!” a voice cried to their left, just as they were approaching the junction.

Bad’s head whipped to the voice like a startled chicken. His eyes widened in recognition, and he shot off Dream’s arm and threw himself at the stranger. The stranger had dull grey skin, and his eyes were covered by a mask. He didn’t jump or flinch when Bad wrapped his hands around his waist, crying. He looked like he was used to it.

“I hate this placeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Bad cried, throwing a tantrum like a toddler.

A6d sighed in exhaustion. He patted Bad’s hair. “It’s okay Bad. I’m here with you.” Then he flicked Bad’s forehead, gritting his teeth in anger. “Call me in such short notice again and I’ll leave you alone.”

Bad whined. “I’m sorryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” He looked around in confusion. “Where’s Skeppy?”

“He’s caught up in mining. He said he ran out of lapis for his new project.”

“That was quick.”

“I know.”

Now that Bad’s calmed down, he gathered himself and gestured at the three humans, who were beyond confused and exasperated. “These are the humans I’m travelling with!” he said, smiling as he introduced them. “That’s Dream, George and Sapnap!” He turned to Sapnap and the others, pointing at A6d. “This is A6d!”

George frowned. He didn’t like the fact that Bad addressed them as humans like they were some higher being. “Nice to meet ya!” he greeted, mustering a smile as he offered his hand. “You’re Bad’s friend, eh?”

A6d mirrored his frown. “‘Friend’ is a loose term.” He didn’t take George’s hand. “But yes, I keep him from dying twenty-four seven. I guess you could call us that.”

Awkwardly, George retracted his arm, and grinned stiffly. Dream and Sapnap glanced at him, wary of the man who was a head taller than them. He didn’t look human, either, just like Bad. But he and Bad were different. If he said he’d lived for thousands of years, they would believe it just like they didn’t believe Bad.

“You’re from this country, I take it?” Dream asked. A6d was wearing clothes that could be interpreted as modern and traditional. He looked like he was pulled out from another time.

A6d shook his head, crossing his arms. He pushed Bad’s forehead away, prying him off. “I’m here because Bad asked me to be, but I know my way around this place.” He glared some more at Bad. “He gave you a lot of trouble, eh?”

Bad stepped on his foot. A6d graciously ignored it, but sweat began to form on his forehead. His shoulders tensed. It must’ve hurt him, but Bad didn’t notice his distress. Bad glowered at the man next to him.

“But why?” Sapnap chortled, barely holding in his laughter. “Does he need someone to sing him to sleep? He knows we’re absolute shit in singing and telling stories.”

“Language!” Bad snapped.

A6d sighed. He only met them for seconds, but he acted like he was ready to let the earth swallow him. “I’m here because he wants me to take you to the portal,” he harrumphed, still glaring at the healer. “I have permission to it. And since he’s too much of a wuss, he would rather quit his quest than get to a stupid portal.”

“NO NO NO NO NO!” the healer shrieked. “THAT’S NOT IT! I’M NOT SCARED! I’M NOT A WUSS!”

“Sure you aren’t!” A6d groused. “Come on. You three don’t have visitor passes, and that’s punishable by imprisonment. Follow me if you don’t want to get your ass arrested.”

_“LANGUAGE!”_

A6d led them to an office where they would register their information. This included their names, age, kingdom of birth and more random stuff that couldn’t be called an actual survey. It included odd information of their hair color, the origin of their names and even the name of their pet.

The office was just like any other office, except cleaner and more magical. Glowing stones were embedded in the walls, possessing different colors. Most of them were red, brighter than a poppy. If they had a use they wouldn’t know.

“Are you finished?” A6d asked, tapping his foot impatiently. Sapnap fidgeted with a name card, hanging around his neck like a necklace. He reminded wearing these in kindergarten. It read: _Hi! I’m Sapnap! Nice to meet you!_

Dream picked at the string around his neck. “What are these for, anyway?”

He glanced at A6d, but A6d wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Bad, who already scurried off to the counter to register himself last minute. However, as he wrote his name, the ink glowed brightly and electrocuted his hand.

“Ouch!” Bad cried, holding his fingers. The pen in his hand dropped and clattered to the floor. His face was grim, but he looked more devastated than distressed.

A6d sighed, heading over to him. They exchanged quick words, though it appeared like A6d was scolding Bad for something he’d done.

This was getting weirder by the second.

“That’s because he’s lying,” said a woman. She was looking over to the commotion, poking her head from her desk. “This ink is enchanted. So if anyone tries to lie about their identity, it’ll shock them.”

George glanced at his nametag. “Woah,” he muttered. “I’m glad I didn’t try to add another inch to my height.”

“Are you _nuts?”_ A6d glared at the form. Bad barely finished the first question, which was his name. He shoved the paper into Bad’s face, gritting his teeth. “ _Darryl Noveschosch?_ Who the fuck are you trying to fool?”

“Language!” Bad hushed. “I can’t walk around with _Badboyhalo!_ You know what’ll happen!”

For a second, A6d looked ready to strangle the demon with nothing but his bare fists. Even if A6d’s physical strength didn’t match Bad’s, he was scary when he wanted to be.

“Are you telling me _they_ don’t know?” A6d’s voice was a quiet whisper, but his anger was evident.

Bad leaned backwards as A6d towered over him, hands itching to shake his shoulders, but he never backed down. “Well, I didn’t exactly hide anything, and I told Sapnap!” Bad bent down, picked the pen up, and slammed it onto the table. “It’s not my problem that history books are inaccurate!”

A6d grabbed Bad’s shoulders, shaking him. “This isn’t about _history books._ You know we hate them. I’m asking you whether if they know who you _are_ in this stupid country.”

“Of course not!” Bad cried. “How was I supposed to know they were dead set on coming to Gateau? Why don’t I tell them how many times you would talk in your sleep for the past millennia while I’m at it?”

“I do not talk in my sleep!”

“Tell that to yourself when you gave away our quote, ‘top-secret mission,’ to a spy because you were asleep!”

“IT WAS ONE TIME.”

“Guys!” Sapnap interrupted them. He put his hand on both their shoulders and pushed them apart. He shuddered; A6d’s skin was cold, even through his clothes. “You’re making a scene.” He pointed back to the room, where everyone’s eyes were on them now. A6d swore he saw someone enjoying their squabble with popcorn.

A6d released an exasperated groan. He didn’t seem to care about the attention, but more of his debate being ruined by someone else. “Come on,” he vamped. “Let’s get you guys an inn before I lose my shit.”

This time, Bad didn’t try to correct his profanity, like he was suppressing his instinct to even talk.

* * *

“Is that a statue of Bad?” George squinted, staring at the structure from a distance. The majority was covered by buildings, but he could still see the statue’s head from where he stood. The statue’s skin was coated with onyx and its eyes were made of pure quartz. Red horns protruded from both sides of its head.

Bad groaned, dragging himself to keep up with them. A6d left earlier, and on a sour note. He shouldn’t have asked A6d for help. But then again, if it wasn’t for him, they’d be shot dead at the entrance. Even so, if only Bad wasn’t such a coward…

“No, it’s not,” he groused. “Gateau is a country that follows a religion of immortal deities. It’s probably from a temple somewhere.”

“It really looks like him.” Dream ignored Bad. “Hey, Bad, are the leader of a cult?”

“Cult! Cult of drugs!” Sapnap cheered. “Bad, can I join your cult? Do newcomers get free cocaine and marijuana? Stop doing drugs, Bad! Drugboyhalo!”

“I’m not doing drugs!” Bad chided, pulling at his hood. “And stop calling me that! I’m not in a cult!”

“Because you lead the cult, Drugboyhalo!”

“Oh my goodness! Stop saying that!”

“What, you saved the world and the world’s worshipping you?” Dream snorted. “Do _we_ get statues after we defeat the ender dragon?”

Bad stopped chewing on his scarf out of frustration. “Maybe!” he exclaimed. “Maybe you’ll get your own cult too! I don’t make the rules!”

Dream shoved George and Sapnap from his path and began sprinting. “LAST ONE TO BAD’S CULT IS A ROTTEN EGG!”

“FUCK YOU!” George broke into a ran, barely catching his goggles. Sapnap followed suit, all giggling like children.

“LANGUAGE!” Bad chased after them, dread pooling in his stomach.

_“The one who killed me_

_Is not human_

_I want you to retrieve my star_

_And the head of my killer_

_I believe that you are the only one who can do it_

_Avenge me,_

_$%^ &*@.”_


	5. Origins

“There’s _no_ way this isn’t Bad’s cult,” George crabbed, picking at a headband with twin red horns, similar to Bad’s own. “This screams Badboyhalo all over. Who else makes cookies with raisins and not chocolate chips? Who makes chocolate pudding without any sugar?”

Around them was the same color scheme: black and red, with some white and blue. Children wore short cloaks that covered their torsos, and adults wore black robes with red lining. They were all heading into a building that looked like a church, with a statue of a demon-angel hybrid standing at the front.

“Do I look like a leader of a cult to you?” Bad hissed, his face flushing crimson.

“Yes,” Dream and Sapnap chorused.

“I don’t, dangit!” The healer huffed, already turning to the direction of the nearest inn. “Come on! It’s already sunset. We won’t get a room if we’re too late.”

Sapnap chortled. “Maybe we can stay in your cult’s church for the night.”

“I DON’T HAVE A STUPID CULT, YOU POTATO!” Bad looked like he was about to commit arson. But instead of fire he would use muffins, and in place of murder he’d pour blueberry jam all over them. Then he would apologize five minutes later and help clean up his mess. “Look!” He pointed at the inside of the church. Instead of a regular religious service, it was a museum with various relics. “It’s a museum! A memorial or something. It’s not a cult!”

“Museum of your first ever drugs?” George asked.

“NO!” He turned his back on the museum and stormed off.

After he left, Dream shot George an incomprehensible look, but he looked like he was struggling to hold in his laughter as well. Though, being the only one who possesses the braincell in their team, he kept his tone flat. It if wasn’t for his mask and George’s goggles, they would have burst out laughing.

“Dude, that was too far.”

* * *

Bad hated this place. Not because of Dream, George and Sapnap making jokes about marijuana and cocaine, but it was because that this was the very same kingdom where he met Skeppy and A6d. their first meeting was… not very pleasant.

A couple thousand years ago, Skeppy wasn’t as confident as he was today. A6d still wanted to be alive. Even Bad would use words more sinister than _muffins_ and _potatoes._ Call it what you may, I would call this Character Development, Just Backwards. (Forwards, for some people, but still backwards nonetheless.) they were completely different people from who they were today.

Like all demons, when Bad reached 13 years of age (read: 13,000), he wanted to rule the world. It was a common demon thing. No big deal! Except it was. Back then, he wasn’t as innocent as he was today. He abused his powers, killed a royal family, and took over the kingdom for his own. For centuries, he ruled the country with an iron fist. With his magic and alchemy, his forces easily became the strongest amongst the world.

Then, he got bored. He was a young demon. He was impulsive and an ass. Times were changing but his country still stayed in the same time as it had when he took over. Whilst other countries had steampunk engines and automated heated baths, his country still didn’t have public toilets. He’d grown lonely, because there was no one by his side. Everyone around him was changing, but he was still a bratty kid.

Eventually, as Bad strolled the borders between his country and some other unknown town, he met Skeppy. A gemhuman who’s also the last of his kind. He’d survived due to his unbreakable body and talent for survival. He was younger than Bad, as he was only 1,000 years old. Bad was now 15,000. He was younger than Bad by fourteen millennia. 

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” Bad scoffed, glaring at the gemhuman, who was shorter than he was. Because he was holed up in his castle for so long, he’d completely lost touch of the outside world.

Skeppy yelped, fumbling over his sword. It was translucent, shimmering with the same light that made his flesh. “Who—who are you?” he stammered, gripping the handle of his blade. “You… you don’t look like the humans who keeps trying to break me.”

Bad raised an eyebrow, but his gaze was kept on his skin and sword. “The fuck? Is this diamond?” he asked, holding the blade with two fingers. It felt cool to his touch, and he could feel the veins of magic humming through the fractals. “What _are_ you? You don’t look human, either. Humans are soft and fragile. You’re not. Literally.”

Skeppy was shaking now, too scared to answer. Bad was a whole head taller than him, and his dark red eyes were menacing and mocking. Those horns didn’t look like it was for show. He was wearing a short cape that covered his upper body, colored black and lined with red. He’s heard rumors of a demon ruling the unnamed kingdom before, but is this person the same demon in those stories?

If so, he looked smaller than Skeppy had expected him to be.

“I—I—” Skeppy spluttered. If Gemhumans could sweat, he would be filling buckets. “I’m a gemhuman, last of my kind.” He frowned. “At least I think so. I haven’t met another one since a human raided my cave.”

Bad stared at him incredulously. “So your people are also made of gemstones? And humans are hunting them down?”

Skeppy nodded. His eyes were like fractals of a diamond, reflecting different shades of crystal blue. “Yeah.”

“That’s really fucked up,” Bad grumbled. “What do they even want with you?”

Skeppy shook his head. He didn’t know. He remembered waking up in his cave hearing shattering and screams. There were humans in his cave, smashing his friends to bits with pickaxes. He could still recall the ground littered with fragments of their bodies. When the humans were done, not one piece of his friends remained, like they were never there.

As he left his cave for the first time, he saw villagers walking past a dirt path. They were wearing his friends’ shattered pieces, carved into intricate shapes and jewelry that garnished their clothes, ears, bodies and dresses.

Their screams still haunted him at night.

“Come on. You can tell me who they are,” Bad coaxed, voice sweet as honey. But his face was twisted into one of sadism and excitement, like he was devising different tortures that would horrify a serial killer. “I’d quite like to do a bit of justice now and then.”

“What are you trying to do?”

Bad hummed. “Nothing much. Just going to scare them a little. I think I saw a jewelry merchant somewhere near my Capital, too.”

Skeppy paled. His face turned to a shade of light blue. “You can’t kill them!”

“Why not? They massacred your people. They turned them into _decorations._ ” Bad hooked his hand around Skeppy’s and began pulling him through the fortified gates of his country. “It’s a fair trade. Besides, they’re only humans. They’re meant to serve greater beings like me. No need to get so worked up about it. For every person you name, I can rid of ten times of their families. Sounds good?”

Skeppy didn’t know what he just got himself into, but no human they met inside Bad’s castle ever dared to come close to him.

They only introduced themselves later when Bad asked more questions about his race and era. Skeppy learned that Bad had lived a long time, since the very beginning of time, but he didn’t meet his own people. He didn’t specify what people, though. Though the horns gave Skeppy some degree of suspicion.

As Skeppy explained, he was one of the last generations of gemhumans. Gemhumans were getting rarer and rarer as the Spirit Race began to dominate the world. Humans began to populate themselves, but he admitted that Bad’s country was the only place where he saw so many humans gathered in one area.

Skeppy managed to survive by himself for three hundred years or so, with a sword built from his own kind. With the fragments of his own body, he forged this weapon that kept him alive and got him through difficult situations. Like him, it was unbreakable, and an extension of his own body.

Though, throughout all of this, Bad’s expression was one of total boredom, like he wasn’t hearing what he wanted to hear.

“So you really don’t want revenge for your people?” Bad asked, staring intently into Skeppy’s eyes. His arms were crossed, looking every bit of serious as he sat across him across the café table.

Skeppy shrunk in Bad’s stare. “N—no,” he simmered. “I hate humans, but many of them are innocent. I mean! The ones who took my friends aren’t, but they’re dead now. Their families are innocent.”

Bad slammed the table, glaring. Skeppy jumped in his seat. His canines were sharp, like a wild beast’s. “What the fuck?!” he snapped. Humans around them fell to their knees out of fear and cleared the area. “They destroyed your entire history! Just like mine! Why do you not feel the slightest bit vengeful?”

“Because the humans nowadays don’t have anything to do with it!” Skeppy retorted meekly. “It’s three centuries ago, Bad. Humans don’t live that long.”

“OBVIOUSLY!” Bad screamed. “But they have families! They procreate and produce descendants. Their children are still out there, living off wealth that’s stained with the blood of your friends. Humans have a short lifespan, but their roots stretch deep throughout each generation. If you don’t show them now, they’ll do the same to the Spirits!”

Skeppy choked. “Now you’re just being racist!” He pointed an accusing finger at the demon. “Why do you hate humans? Just because they’re not like you, me, or Spirits? That’s messed up!”

“You should hate them, after they hang pieces of your friends’ bodies on THEIRS!”

Bad was standing now, his eyes and horns glowing bright red. Scarlet mist emitted from his fingers, like he was prepared to burn the whole city into ashes.

Despite his initial nervousness, Skeppy didn’t back down. He glared daggers at the demon, his sword drawn to defend himself.

“Maybe I don’t _want_ to hate!” he refuted. “Maybe I don’t want to spend my life hating people that are already dead!”

When the ground began to shake, Skeppy began to panic internally, questioning himself whether if he’s gone too far. He held his sword with trembling fingers, slowly backing from the demon in caution.

Then, Bad calmed down.

“Good for you then.” Bad crinkled his nose in disgust. “Go live with your precious humans.” He pushed the chair aside, and turned on his heel. “Get out of my country.”

After kicking Skeppy from his kingdom, he resumed his normal, dictatorship life… until the Spirit Revolution happened two thousand years later. What happened afterwards was a complete fever dream. Skeppy protected a spirit from human soldiers, who was ravaging the spirit’s city. They managed to run, but they couldn’t save the spirit’s family.

By the time they escaped the fallen country, it was overtaken by humans. Though, thanks to Spirits’ unique ability of possessing living beings, not all of them were destroyed. Few managed to escape, but most would die due to injuries or natural circumstances.

Like Skeppy, the reason A6d survived was because he had exceptional talent for manipulating and possessing living beings at the young age of 17. He couldn’t fight to save his life, but he was decent with a bow and arrow. Their life on the run didn’t last long, either, as a small army of humans chased after them, wanting to finish their job.

Skeppy’s legs were broken, his severed limbs casted off into a ravine. A6d was also weakened, struck by the effects of a poisonous arrow. The humans were holding fire charges and TNT.

Skeppy closed his eyes, waiting for the explosion, but it never came. When he opened them, there was a dark figure standing between him and the humans. In his hands were two stumps, the tip transparent like diamonds.

The ground beneath the soldiers erupted into pillars of spikes, running the humans through and hoisting their bodies high in the air. From the spectacle, it rained blood and gore. Bad calmly wiped the liquid from his face, and dropped his limbs in front of Skeppy. His eyes were cold.

“I told you this would happen.”

He didn’t say further.

Later on, Bad admitted that he’d run from his kingdom because it fell to human hands. His own servants betrayed him and tried to kill him in his sleep, even if it was impossible. Bad didn’t run because he was outnumbered. He ran because he was tired of governing a country.

“So… you’re essentially homeless,” A6d muttered, his form flickering. His body was trying to dispel the poison.

Bad shrugged. He was calmer than Skeppy remembered him to be. Two thousand years can change someone. “I want to see the world,” he confessed. “I need to stop living in my own fantasies. I want to look for my people.”

He’d ruled his kingdom as a pretense. To give himself the illusion that there is someone out there just like him.

“I… want to look for _my_ people, too,” Skeppy agreed. “Even if it’s a pipe dream.”

They turned to A6d, whose race was literally razed right before his eyes. He had an inexplicable accent that was rooted from his native language.

“I mean? Same,” he chorused. “I want to help them. If there’s any of them that’s still alive.”

“So!” Bad cried out abruptly, surprising the two. His tone was unusually upbeat. “We’re all a bunch of sad muffins now! Misery enjoys company, doesn’t it?”

“Hey! I’m not miserable!” Skeppy argued.

“Looks like to me you are!”

“Which part of my gorgeous face looks like I need to be cheered up?!”

A6d sighed as he stared at their bickering. This was going to be a _loo-o-ong_ trip.

* * *

_Omake (Extra Scenes):_

**Bad before The Spirit Revolution:** Humans are utterly useless and expendable. I also hate them because they’re the prime reason of destroying every society in the world, like Celestials, Gemhumans, Spirits, Warlocks, Sirens, Mermaids, (twenty destroyed supernatural civilizations later), and they breed like rabbits in heat. What do you mean I can’t eradicate an entire bloodline because they stole a muffin? It’s only 327 people. I’m sure humans can make two times the amount in a month. Fuck you. Off with your head. Fuck your family. This city can burn and I’ll be the one sitting on the throne.

**Bad after The Spirit Revolution:** *to a human* Humans are… not as… bad as I expected. _(Skeppy screeches at him from a distance)_

**Bad before the Human Takeover:** You know what? Some humans are pretty good. Like muffins. :)

**Bad after the Human Takeover:** DREAMMM! Please! I want some muffins from the muffin store! D: I’ll do anything!

* * *

_Omake #2:_

**Bad:** So, I admit I used to be controlling—

**Skeppy:** *snorts* “Used to”.

* * *

_Omake #3:_

**Some King at some point, probably:** Why is it when something happens, it’s always you three?

**Bad, A6d & Skeppy: ***silence*

* * *

_Omake #4:_

**Bad, during the Wither Hunt while waiting for Skeppy to finish enchanting his sword:** Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready? Skeppy, Skeppy, are you ready?

**Skeppy:** _STOP._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Trio time :D 
> 
> Yes Bad is a dictator at one point, but he's changed! More information as to why he stopped using his demonic magic and wants to become a healer coming soon!


	6. Lightning

Bad didn’t have high hopes for their journey in Gateau. Not only did they have a whole museum dedicated to him, Skeppy, and A6d’s victory against the Wither, it was also the same country that Bad used to conquer. Even if it was well over 10,000 years ago, and the people certainly won’t recognize him, he still felt horrible whenever he sees someone bowing to his statue.

They were worshipping a false hero. Bad left the country when he was 17,000, and he saved it when he was around the 20,000-year mark. He’d lost count of his age, so he didn’t know the specifics. No mortal lived that long, so he wasn’t reprimanded when they were summoned to defeat the Wither in that country. Back then, Bad didn’t think much of it. He was still struggling with human emotions at the time.

Now? He felt so bad he wanted to throw up.

So as he was awakened from his sleep, shocked from the frantic shouts outside, he knew he was done for. But when he looked outside to the window, squeezing past George, Sapnap and Dream to get a better view, he saw soldiers in dark armor, wielding weapons and darting towards the museum.

Bad glanced at the direction of the statue. It was so tall that you could see it from miles away. It was on fire, the bright orange burning through the dark of night. There were traces of magic being thrown around, valiantly trying to control the damage.

“What the fuck is going on?” Sapnap slurred, rubbing his eyes. Nobody made any snarky comments about the giraffe onesie he was wearing.

“Language!” Bad chided, squinting out the window. The soldiers’ armor design caused him to cringe. It was the exact same model he’d used for his army, except with few modifications.

Dream clicked his tongue. “We should go check it out.”

“Should we?” George muttered. “It sounds like they’re having trouble.”

“Yeah,” Bad agreed coolly. “We’re only going to interfere.”

The blonde turned to them, exasperated. He was already changing into his clothes and sheathing his sword. He’d ignored their words completely.

“We’re the ones who’s going to kill the ender dragon!” Sapnap horsed, unbuttoning his giraffe onesie to reveal a… monkey onesie? He then unzipped the monkey onesie and slid on his shirt. “What kind of heroes would we be if we’re not going to help with something like this?”

They were going there. Oh no. If things went well, they would know what was truly lurking behind the curtains. Bad would be nothing more than a villain to them, a _freak._ That was the last thing he wanted on his list right now. But even with his demonic reflexes, Bad skipped a beat, and the door was already swinging wide open, and the room was void of sound. With a yelp, Bad scrambled for his glasses and a few vials of potions and followed suit.

Before Bad even reached the streets, the inn was already a bloody mess. The inn itself was small, as the country didn’t get much visitors from the outside. Most stayers were families or people on a vacation from their homes, which was across the continent. So when word got out that the religion’s statue was on fire, people started to panic. Some of the extremists were on their knees, holding onto a miniature rapier or a necklace with red horn ornaments and started praying.

No offense to them, but Bad cringed whenever he saw any of it. Though, he was respectful to them, carefully maneuvering his way through the crowd as he tried to catch up with Dream and the others.

“Bad!” A6d’s voice called, causing the demon to whirl around to the Spirit. A6d was drenched in water, his teeth gritting as he stormed towards his friend. “Are you okay? What the fuck is going on?”

 _“Language!”_ Bad hissed, glancing at A6d’s soaking form. “What happened to you?”

A6d’s mouth twitched. If he wasn’t wearing the mask, Bad was sure his glare could bore holes through diamonds. “I got pushed into a river, that’s what!” he shrieked. “THIS IS WHY I FUCKING HATE HUMANS!”

“Hey! Humans aren’t so bad!” Bad argued. “And language, young man!”

“I’m nearly ten thousand! THIS IS NO TIME TO BE TALKING ABOUT MY USE OF PROFANITY.”

The statue released a high-pitched whine, attracting their attention to it. Behind the roofs, the statue’s head fell sideways, still burning with molten iron and fire, and a bone-chilling thud echoed throughout the city, quaking the ground and shaking buildings.

A6d and Bad exchanged glances, and neither of them were enthusiastic to charge forward and help. A6d looked like he had better things to do than check out a fallen statue. Bad was torn between concern for his teammates and his joy of that accursed statue being destroyed.

If it wasn’t for the familiar, _“DREEAM!!”_ piercing through the chaos, they’d turn away and have a drink at a bar somewhere. Without hesitation, they bolted towards the museum in search of Bad’s friends.

When they arrived, it wasn’t any less chaotic. The demon-angel hybrid statue was crumpled into pieces, with lava still coating the area. Dream, Sapnap and George were helping civilians who remained trapped inside the building, and some priests desperately tried to salvage the statue’s remains by summoning rain and pouring buckets of water. It wasn’t all that bad, until the lava began to leak onto the nearest row of buildings, setting the wood on fire.

“I did not expect this,” A6d crabbed, putting his bow away.

Bad stared at the growing fires, desperate. Fire resistant potions didn’t work on inanimate objects, and his magic wasn’t potent enough for him to change the weather and summon rain. If they didn’t do anything soon, the whole city could be on fire. He’d failed this place once. He can’t fail it again.

What _can_ he do? Even if he used his magic, it’s all for destruction and death. Demons do not fix nor create. They destroy and ruin. Even now, as the sight of the burning house and decimated statue reflected in his eyes, some part of him stirred in anticipation. His fingers itched to add to the chaos, to raise the dead and summon monsters to raze the city. He hated himself for that, but he can’t stop it. It’s wrong, and he knows it.

_But—_

A young boy’s cry brought his attention back. The lava has a child completely surrounded, with debris falling around them. The child’s parents were nowhere to be seen, and no one was free to save the boy.

Bad panicked. He fumbled for a fire-resistance potion, but A6d was faster. He swept in, swatting dripping lava aside and snatched the child in his arms. Bad’s mind turned. He’d almost forgotten that Spirits were naturally immune to any temperatures. It’d come in handy when Skeppy accidentally dropped his sword into magma for the thousandth time.

The fires were still spreading. Bad started to consider resorting to splashing buckets of water, but the flames had consumed an entire house. It would be the equivalent of putting out a burning carriage with a mere cup.

“Well,” A6d said, putting the child down. The boy ran away after thanking the Spirit. “The city’s gone now. Good job, Bad.”

Bad glowered. “I did no such thing!”

“Nothing we can do now. Tell your companions to get to the nether before it’s too late.”

“Then you’re just going to walk away?!”

A6d landed his eyes on him, his arms crossed. “Aren’t you the one that walked away when Spifey died?”

Bad stiffened.

A6d sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Forget I said anything,” he said quickly, turning his back on the burning houses. “Come on. We’re not going to waste any more time.”

They promised not to talk about Spifey, after all.

When Bad started to reach for A6d’s hand, attempting to get him to reconsider, chilling sensations suddenly ran through his back, and out from his chest. Before he could make a sound, his feet was lifted from the ground, and his body slid down the trident’s sharpened tips.

As quickly as it happened, a blast of lightning burst through the rainclouds, and struck the trident with Bad still impaled. A6d realized it too late. By the time he turned, his bow drawn, Bad was face-first on the floor, with the trident pinning him to the ground through his body. His clothes were smoking, sizzling with cinders. Dark blue blood splattered the pavement like violent paint.

“Bad!” A6d cried, paling. He aimed his bow to the attacker, who was still holding onto the trident, and even using his boot to push the trident further through Bad’s back. His weapon was dripping with Bad’s blood—dark blue in color. The blood of a demon.

The stranger hummed to himself, peering at the unconscious man. He ignored A6d completely. “That was easier than expected,” he admitted, taking his hand off the trident’s handle. “I’d hoped for a fight, at least. This was disappointing.”

A6d’s mind raced. He’d never seen Bad injured severely before. It was mostly because he was always in the backlines, providing support with milk and potions, but seeing the man bleed was a rare occurrence. Bad’s been tortured for information before, and even then, he held out and did not bleed.

For this man… a human to draw blood so easily, it unnerved him.

_But is he human?_

A6d looked closer. He had pale skin; paler than a human’s. He knew Spirits were still out there, albeit extremely rare to come across. But the chances are for one of them to attack another to draw attention was unbelievably scarce.

“Hey, you!” A6d shouted, his hands shaking. “You’re not human, are you?”

The stranger glanced at him, smiling. “And neither are you.” He had a heavy accent, just like A6d. It was different, but it sounded like a native Spirit speaking English. Only his was calmer, and more recent. It was like he was adapting to the current world but could never let go of his tongue. “My name’s Wilbur. And you?”

“Step away from him!” A6d demanded, putting away his bow. He broke into a sprint, his skin turning translucent as he touched Wilbur’s arm, but only for him to rematerialize, and nothing happened.

“Ah,” Wilbur said. “You’re a Spirit.” He shook A6d’s hand off his arm. “Sorry to disappoint, but Spirits can’t possess each other.”

_Fuck. Why am I right? Why do I always have to be right?_

Wilbur turned in a distance. “Tommy!” he called. “Our work here is done. You can come out now!”

The taller Spirit craned his head to A6d. With an easy-going grin, he wrapped his fingers around the trident’s bloodied handle, and pulled it from Bad’s body. A6d could hear the sickening slink of the weapon as it exited the wound.

He pointed the bloody tip at A6d. Thunder boomed in the rainclouds that the priests conjured. It was a spell meant to save, but he was using it to do the opposite.

“All that’s left is to finish off a runt.”

Wilbur ran the trident through A6d’s chest.


	7. Not Alone

Compared to Skeppy and Bad, A6d didn’t contribute much when they were up against the Wither. He knew for a fact that a bow and some arrows weren’t going to do much damage against an undead monster. They were older than humans, stronger than any other adventurer, but the Wither was a creature that was created by the species that destroyed theirs. He didn’t know why they were putting their necks on the line to save them.

Even after thousands of years, A6d knew his teammates weren’t weak, even if they portrayed themselves to be. Bad’s abilities as a healer was undeniably useless, but he was one of the only people who saw Bad’s true nature and walked away alive. He watched Bad decimate armies using nothing but his hand and magic. He witnessed Skeppy enter hostile kingdoms unarmed and emerge unscathed. So when they told him that they were going to _help_ humans, it genuinely surprised him.

_“Bad! A6d!”_

A6d heard voices, clear as day and crystal as diamond. He was splayed on the ground, with holes through his chest, but he was conscious. He couldn’t feel any pain. It was either he was overwhelmed by his senses or he was officially dead. But he’d felt the Wither’s devastating effect as it ate away at his body. He should be registering a stab through the chest. Something was wrong here.

To the other taller Spirit’s surprise, A6d found it in himself to rise, holding his closing wounds as he stared wide-eyed at his unbothered body. It was as if the trident’s prongs never ran through his chest at all, leaving only tears in his clothes.

“What?” Wilbur demanded, aghast. “You should be dead! It’s not possible for you to be alive!”

From the tone of his voice, A6d had the element of surprise. Shooting on his feet, he launched himself towards the other, holding his elbow out to wrestle the man to the ground. Wilbur didn’t foresee this, and dropped the trident in surprise as the younger Spirit put in him a chokehold, forcing him on his belly as he bent his arm in an odd angle.

A6d hissed. He’d never touched another Spirit up close before. Wilbur’s skin was cold, just like his. Life force hummed beneath their clothes. “Tell me about that trident!” he yelled, eyeing the bloody weapon by them. “Speak or I’ll kill you!”

Wilbur glowered, but he wasn’t as trained as A6d in physical combat. A6d had trained with two nearly indestructible beings for the majority of his life. Wilbur, on the other hand, had not. He was at a severe disadvantage.

“Like I’d tell you, kid!” Wilbur clapped back, bracing himself for the pain. He’d made a wise choice as a sickening _snap_ echoed in the air. He screamed.

A6d released his hand around Wilbur’s neck, and planted his heel on the back of Wilbur’s knee. “Start speaking,” he threatened, voice low, “or you’re going to have a _very_ hard time.”

Spirits were not human, but compared to other Species, they resembled them the most. They do not have bones, but instead they had veins of life force running through their limbs. Break one, and the Spirit is at risk of losing the limb, or simply death. A6d’s lost a lot of limbs before, so he knew different ways to break a Spirit’s body, even if the information was deemed useless all the time. Now, however, it was the perfect timing for such trivia.

As a response to A6d’s threat, the older Spirit merely turned to him, and gave him a shit-eating grin, as if A6d’s the one losing the battle. He was met with a cold, darkened glare, that saw him as nothing but a bug in his path. A hindrance, yes, but not dangerous.

A6d slammed his heel into Wilbur’s knee and bent backwards just before a flash of red aimed to decapitate him.

“A6d!” Sapnap screamed, alarmed that A6d dodged a blade’s edge by a hair’s sliver. The Spirit planted his arms on the ground, and kicked upwards, his feet meeting a solid torso. The newcomer stumbled back, but did not fall. In a split second, A6d’s mind ran cold. The contact was familiar, but it wasn’t possible. _He shouldn’t be killing me and Bad… he’s not even fucking here!_

Looking up, A6d was forced to grab the trident in spite of its tainted surface, and point it towards the gemhuman standing across him. Wilbur was still sprawled before his feet, groaning with white mist leaking from his shattered limbs.

The gemhuman was not Skeppy. _Thank god._ He was a mismatched figure. He was made of three different types of gems; from what Skeppy taught him, it was topaz, sapphire and garnet. The gemhuman looked _wrong._ Unlike Skeppy, who was made of pure diamond, this gemhuman was a creation of three different materials, a freak concoction of nature, like he wasn’t meant to exist, like Frankenstein’s monster.

Gemhumans were all extinct, all but Skeppy. In the same moment, he’d met a Spirit. _If there were still gemhumans and Spirits…_ A6d thought of Bad, who’d been so adamant about destroying all humans ten thousand years ago, but now was best friends with them. _Does that mean there’s someone out there, just like Bad?_ He didn’t want to know. If even _one_ of Bad’s kind remained, and they weren’t as passive as him, the world was in danger.

“Easy? My ass!” the gemhumans scoffed at Wilbur, brandishing a black axe. It wasn’t made of crystals. It was made with something more sinister. “In what sense do you think this is easy? For god’s sake, Wilbur, stop trying to play cool and just blast the whole city apart!”

He had an accent, too. Any species who’d survived their era always had a noticeable one, especially when they’re learning English as a second language to survive. His was different from Skeppy’s. It was plausible that he and Skeppy came from different countries and colonies.

If so, why hadn’t they heard of them before today? A6d glared. Not the time. He vaguely heard Wilbur mention a name before he was stabbed. _Tommy, was it? Is that the gemhuman’s name?_

“What are they?” Sapnap demanded, raising his sword. “That does not look normal to me!”

A6d scowled. His hand was covered in blood from the trident. _Bad’s_ blood. But it was his only chance to take this from them to prevent any future threats. If he could defeat them with their own weapon as well, it would be better.

“That’s because it’s not!” A6d raised the trident to the sky. Thunder boomed in the clouds. The trident glowed white, humming with magic and electricity. He pointed the tip at the two, focusing all its potency into one blast—

Then it broke. It shattered into a million shards, unrecognizable and unrepairable. The magic popped like a whistling balloon, dispersing into the air.

Sapnap stared at the broken pieces. “Um,” he said uncertainly, “is that supposed to happen?”

Even Wilbur—with difficulty, as he is literally dying from a broken leg and arm—and Tommy gaped at it. Clearly, they didn’t expect it, either. They were just so confident earlier, and from the way Wilbur held his weapon, he hadn’t had it for long. Unless he found it from a dumpster and had plenty magic to spare, why would he infuse a breaking weapon with such powerful enchantments? Lightning was no laughing matter. Before the Wither, lightning tridents were common. But now, they were considered relics.

And it took down Bad, too… it’s no ordinary enchantment, that’s for sure.

“Take Bad and heal him with his potions,” A6d instructed Sapnap, eyeing the fallen demon. One of his horns was snapped off, leaving a jagged stump. When the human propped him up, carrying him behind his back, A6d noticed wild white veins reaching from his neck and to his face. Whatever was happening, it can’t be good. “Go!” he barked when Sapnap hesitated. “I’ll hold them off!”

With a shaky nod, he turned tailed and sprinted towards the inn, where Bad kept all the healing supplies.

A6d glared at Tommy and Wilbur, but they weren’t even looking at him. They were bickering amongst each other, even as Tommy poured healing potions on Wilbur’s limbs.

“Hey!” he roared, summoning his bow. It was coated in a layer of magic, but it too was on the verge of breaking. “You have thirty seconds to explain before I shoot holes through your fucking skulls!”

Tommy made a face at him. “Ooh, a bow and arrow? I’m so scared.” He poked Wilbur’s side with his boot and pointed his axe at A6d. “Come on, ugly!”

An arrow landed on the pavement in front of him. The tip cut into the stone with a clean slice. Tommy looked down, to see the glowing arrow embedded in the floor, alit with fire and magic. Only the tips were visible, as it’d cut through the stone like paper. To make things worse, it wasn’t a charged arrow.

“What the fuck?!” Tommy demanded, snapping to A6d. “Are you fucking serious? How’d you even get that bow? That’s cheating!”

A6d nocked another arrow, but there were no arrows. He pulled back the bowstring with a steady hand, and a silhouette of an arrow materialized in his fingers. “Tell me where you got that trident!” he shouted. “Say it or you’ll end up a necklace in some bratty kid’s toilet!”

It was an insult that he would throw Skeppy’s way, but he stopped after realizing how traumatizing it was. If Tommy was also a gemhuman who’s lived through the Spirit Revolution, then it was bound to work the same way. Unless Tommy didn’t have any compassion.

To his expectations, the mismatched gemhuman tensed, his axe trembling unnaturally. “You—you wouldn’t dare!”

Another arrow whizzed past him. This time, it took bits of Tommy’s hair off. Fragments of topaz fell to the ground like snowflakes. The arrow was powerful enough to sever a lamp post clean half, with the tip still managing to embed itself into the stone floor.

“I FUCKING DARE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.” A6d pulled the bowstring so far back he could hear the magic leaking from the wooden brow.

“Tommy,” Wilbur spoke up, rising to his feet. He looked much better after healing, but his footing was still shaky. “We already finished the main job. We can clean it up after we restock.” He handed a purple slice of fruit to the shorter male, while eating his own.

_Restock? They have more?_

_No, that looks like—SHIT!_

Before A6d could release the arrow, the two finished their chorus fruit and teleported to an unknown place, leaving only a trail of lavender lights in their wake. And in his hands, the bow splinted to pieces, and the string snapped into half. The bow he’d been using ever since they’d discovered enchantments had finally fallen apart.

He didn’t pay much mind to mourn the loss of his trusty weapon, as there was still a friend in peril. With a scowl, he turned from his heels, and discarded the broken bow to rush to Bad’s side.

* * *

“Tell me where’s Bad!” A6d snapped, grabbing the shoulder of one of Bad’s companions. He was wearing a green shirt with a mask tied onto the back of his head.

Dream whipped to him, shocked. “Woah. I didn’t hear you coming,” he admitted, face pale. But it wasn’t from A6d’s abrupt arrival. He was already sweating bullets and white as a sheet before he came. “I came out here to look for you. Sapnap and George are trying to heal him, but—”

A6d cut him off. His ashen hands were covered in splinters and remnants of magic. “Take me to him.”

The human nodded, rather desperately. Rushing through crowds and pushing past corridors, they reached a room where the ruckus within was barely hidden, with more screams thrown into the mix as A6d slammed the door open. There were piles of potions scattered on the floor, all glowing with different colors and effects. Some of them were broken. A6d’s nose caught the whiff of rotting spider. His eyes narrowed at a dead plant in the room.

A6d had prepared himself for whatever he was about to see. Bad wouldn’t die—he was too stubborn to—but the wounds he sustained would be anything but pretty. He expected a charred body with blood stained on the floors and sheets. He was ready to see half his face burnt to ash.

But he did not expect _this_.

Bad’s body was tense, his limbs stretched out and his fists clenched. His eyes were wide, but they were pure white. In the dark, not even his pupils could be seen. His teeth were grit, having grown to the sharp, menacing fangs that he’d had before he embraced human culture. His skin was now obsidian black, his hair lighter than his skin.

But perhaps, the most alarming thing of all were the wings on his back. Two pairs of wings that were twice Bad’s height: one pair demonic red, sharp like blades; the other pure white, with feathers like clouds. His horns were more prominent than before, despite having snapped into half just moments ago. Above his head was a golden halo, glowing so bright that A6d had to squint to look at it.

“Do you know what this is?” Dream asked, almost afraid to enter the room. “He… he looks like the statue from that museum. Does that have anything to do with Bad?”

Yeah, probably because that the statue _is_ Bad.

A6d forced himself to move forward. He shielded his eyes from the light with his hand, the air near the bed almost too suffocating for him to breathe. Fortunately, spirits don’t need oxygen, but even he could feel the pressure around him, like his presence could cause gravity to change.

The wound on Bad’s chest had closed long ago, the blood dried and without holes. A6d didn’t know what was happening. For all the years they’ve travelled together, this was the first time he witnessed this. Maybe Skeppy would know. But they’ve been together for the whole time. If he doesn’t know, Skeppy probably didn’t either.

“You said he looks like the statue, right?” A6d turned to Dream. The human nodded firmly, confident of his observation skills. “Then that’s where we’ll go. Maybe it’s not just some delusional idiot making the statue after all this time.”


	8. Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am going to separate minecraft personas from their real life counterparts, so A6d will still be in here. Sorry if you are not comfortable with his presence in this story.

“Do you think I’m horrible person?”

Skeppy turned to the demon. He was fondling with his cloak, the one he wore during his dictatorship years.

“I mean, at least not _now_ ,” Skeppy tried, putting down his sword. A6d was still in the infirmary, but his condition was gradually improving. “You used to be. But you changed.”

Bad shook his head. Perhaps he was still recovering from the shock of the Wither fight. They’d tried to talk about his outburst, but they never got around to it. Now, they would try again.

“Hey, Skeppy, can you promise me something? To keep secret, I mean.”

“Go on.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between his last sentence and his next. His breathing was labored, despite having done no immense activity for the past hour. It was as if the secret alone was enough to crush his lungs, to pull the breath from his mouth.

“I’m the one who killed Spifey.”

* * *

“I am not going to lie,” A6d huffed with a passion, squinting at one of the bronze tablets plastered on a display case. It contained a broken arrow that he vaguely recognized as one of his own, as he’d crafted his own before he got the enchantment. Now, he bought them as the enchantments were no longer available, but he could see his own craftsmanship when it was presented before him. “This is a dumb museum. We’re not going to find any clues.”

Sapnap raised an eyebrow at him, turning from an artifact. A6d didn’t remember where, but he was sure that a cup that Skeppy used shouldn’t be considered as a treasure worthy of keepsake. Mortals were too superficial—another reason why he disliked them. “ _You’re_ the one who suggested we look here.” He crossed his arms. “Any other bright ideas, genius?”

Behind him, Dream carefully stepped over residue lava, as there was a portion of the damage that seeped through the windows. They shouldn’t be here, with all the chaos and destruction, but no one gave them any special attention when they walked past the burning statue and into the museum.

“I’m going to ask Skeppy,” he grumbled, taking out a piece of parchment from his inventory. He seemed to have the same “inventory” that Bad had. Sapnap didn’t know how it worked, but being able to keep more than one item with no bags sounded like a great deal. It’s also why Bad was always packed to the brim with potions.

Sapnap raised an eyebrow. “Skeppy? Is he like that diamond man that Bad told me about?”

A6d shrugged, muttering curses under his breath. “Yes, yes. The annoying _bling-bling_ man. If anyone should know about Bad, it’s him,” he snapped. “I just need to get a parrot somewhere and let it read this. Hopefully the _lovely_ residents of Gateau stopped committing bird genocide.”

He was speaking their language, but Sapnap didn’t understand what he said at all. His references were so ancient that Sapnap’s never heard them from anywhere. It was like he was from a completely different time, and met Bad from another era. Why did they send messages through birds? How would the birds even know their location? Bad’s done things of the sort before, but Sapnap never found the time to ask.

Come to think of it, Bad’s been acting super weird. He would go days without sleep when they were on the run, always offering to take first and last guard. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night for his shift, to see that the man was playing with salmon in the water, completely refreshed despite having never touched a pillow for days or weeks to come. The sounds he made were simply not human. When he was distressed, he made a sound that could match a broken record’s screech.

None of it added up. Bad also told him personally that he was not human. He’d believed it, for a little while, but he was just the same old Bad they knew and loved.

If it wasn’t for this incident, Sapnap would live to his old days believing that Bad was a human. Bad would still be young then, not even a wrinkle would be seen on his face. He would remain breathing and laughing while he and his friends were buried six feet under.

“Come on.” A6d pushed him towards the further end of the museum to join the other two. “Let’s check the rest and get out of here. I also need to find a stupid bird.”

The museum itself, even with the destruction happening outside, was quite majestic, but not like a holy church. It resembled a cozy cottage where nurses tended to patients on beds, just refurbished with marble and gold. However, unlike any other church or memorial, there were no gemstones.

The artifacts around the museum were random. Some would be a broken sword or a dried-up flower, and some were gem shards preserved in a glass box. But the main attraction was the one at the very front, that was held on an extravagant stand with a crystal barrier surrounding it. The wall behind it was stained glass, depicting the same angel-demon hybrid running the rapier through a dark, three-headed monster’s body.

The rapier that was shown in the painting was sitting on the golden stand. It glowed softly, emitting a gentle aura. Dream leaned down to read the tablet, which was made of gold and laced with obsidian.

“ _Many years ago, our hero_ —” Dream choked at the name, almost removing his mask for the feat. “Our hero, _Badboyhalo_ and his friends _Skeppy_ and _A6d_ , set off to defeat the Wither. This is the very weapon, that our lord and savior Badboyhlo used to defeat the monster. He has left it here before he left, for us to be reminded of his great feats.”

“A6d?” George turned to the Spirit, raising his glasses. “What the fuck? Are you from the past or something?”

A6d scowled, but it wasn’t towards the human. His glare was directed towards the rapier.

“Since when did Bad use a fucking weapon?” he demanded to no one but himself. “He only uses magic! I’ve never seen him use a sword in my life.” He practically spat at the monument, with nothing but disgust from his tone. “Mortals. They get everything wrong.”

Suddenly, his words didn’t sound like jokes at all. Sapnap heard pure hatred in his tone; one that resembled a war veteran spitting on an enemy’s ground. Bad’s stories weren’t fantasies, just like his existence and many others. Angels and Demons weren’t imaginary figureheads in churches and temples. Spirits weren’t ghosts made up by children with vast imagination. The necklaces on a lady’s neck could very well be the remains of a gemhuman.

They’ve met supernatural before, but because humans were intruding upon their land.

_But…_

“Does that mean what we’ve been taught all this time was a lie?” George whispered, staring at the stained-glass painting.

A6d tilted his head. Sapnap only realized now he was covering his eyes. “Pardon?”

“All this time,” Sapnap said, turning to the immortal, “we were told that they were just _myths_.”

A6d snorted. “That means we’re doing our jobs perfectly,” he grumbled. “How do you think people would react if they realized there’s supernatural beings out there?” Crossing his arms, he turned to the exit indifferently. “Do you think they would just let us exist?”

From the looks of his anger, there were years of resentment stored within him, ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice. If what they were told were all true, then there were hundreds, no, _thousands_ of other mythical creatures’ existence eradicated; wiped off the face of the earth before their parents even met.

“There’s more of us out there,” A6d continued, grimly. “And they’re going after Bad. If there’s even another immortal being out there, we’re screwed.”

By _we_ , he didn’t include them.

If there was one rule that existed in every world out there, was to never say the impossible. As A6d was prepared to leave, crumpling the scroll and cursing every human possible, a melody danced in the air, sweet and clear like honey. Amongst the chaos was this tune, a voice like a hundred instruments and nectar to the ears.

Then, Dream unsheathed his sword and lunged at George. Sapnap roared and charged at A6d, his axe and shield drawn. The Spirit leaned backwards and dodged the first strikes, but even the song was starting to get to his head.

A6d realized this too late. The humans were now at each other’s throats, and one of them was actively trying to kill him. Their eyes were dazed, glossed over as if they knew nothing but to fight each other. A6d admitted they had skill and talent, judging from their fast-paced movements, but they were still vulnerable to outside influences.

His gaze settled on the entrance of the museum. It was where the music was coming from. Dodging Sapnap’s axe, he turned to the newcomer, barely recognizing their features. They had blue hair with sapphire scales doting their cheeks. With the long hair and armor, A6d couldn’t tell whether if they were a man or a woman. Their hand was on their chest, as if they were performing an opera.

“You’re with that gemhuman and Spirit, aren’t you?!” A6d shouted, grabbing ahold of Sapnap’s arm and twisting it behind his back. Sapnap grunted and tried to retaliate, but he was helpless against the Spirit.

Sirens lived deep in the ocean, far from any humans. He wasn’t surprised to know that Sirens still existed, but with the humans polluting the oceans and killing the marine life, a Siren coming close to land was absurd.

The Siren stopped singing. The humans stopped fighting and turned to each other in a daze. Dream looked at George in confusion as the brunette had put the blond in a chokehold. Sapnap shrieked and A6d released him, causing him to fall face-first to the ground.

“Hello, A6d,” said the Siren. His voice was deep, but imbued with magic. A6d was well-versed with magic weaving. He knew when he was being manipulated by magic or not. “We finally meet.”

A6d glowered from across the room. “I don’t even know who you are.”

He didn’t need to ask why his name was known. An idiot could look around and put two-and-two together.

“Of course you don’t,” the Siren continued. “I’m a big fan of your work. In some ways, we’re exactly alike. We control living beings against their own will. We have _amazing_ hair.” He shook his hair flamboyantly, showing off his sapphire locks. A6d wanted to pull it off. The Siren turned serious, his expression darkening. “And we both hate humans.”

A6d swallowed. “You can prove nothing that’s of the sort.”

“Hey!” George called, helping Dream to his feet. “Not all humans are bad, you know!”

The Siren ignored him. “I assume you have met Wilbur and Tommy?” A glare from the Spirit confirmed his suspicions. “Then you should already know that you’re not the last ones. There’s more of… _us_ out there, still in hiding.”

“Us?” A6d asked.

“Yes. Us.” His gaze stared past A6d’s shoulder, and straight to the mural in the form of stained glass. A sigh was released from his lips. He sounded like a flute, if they could sound sad. “We are uniting; gathering the remains of us. That has been our duty for millennia.”

The Siren turned, brushing his fingers on the glass case of an ancient coral crown. It was pink, crafted with corals from the deep sea, embedded with blue pearls and glowing shells. It’d belonged to the King of the Sirens, given to Skeppy as a sign of trust. Now it was a relic that humans can come and go to see.

“You are one of us, A6d,” he sung. “We’ve been waiting for the right moment to reach you. After decades, we’ve finally tracked you down in this… _human_ city.” He extended a hand to the Spirit. His hand held a blueish tint, with his fingernails sharp and resembling a claw. “Join us, A6d! Join the rebellion. We need someone like you if we are going to make a difference.”

A6d stared at his palm. He’d subconsciously taken his bow, and was reaching for an arrow. But the Siren seemed to care less about the weapon in his hands and more on his answer. Maybe he had backup somewhere, just waiting to ambush him and the humans.

“‘We’?”

“The rebellion,” he answered somberly. “Each one of us has our home taken by humans. Whether it has been a thousand years or one. Just like yours.” The Siren’s voice turned soft, but there was no magic in them. It was pure sympathy—or empathy and understanding, as they’ve experienced the same thing. “You’ve been alone for so long, with no one that understands you by our side.”

Even if he still wanted to fight back, A6d felt tears springing into his eyes. He shouldn’t be showing weakness in front of an enemy so blatantly, but his words spoke nothing but truth. There was more of them, even if they were from different eras, different races, they understood his pain. They shared the same fate because of the exact same cause.

“I can’t,” A6d muttered, voice cracking. “You’re after Bad. I need to stand by my friend.”

The Siren tilted his head. “The demon?”

A6d snapped to him, out of his stupor. “How did you—”

“We do not give up on one of us,” the siren interrupted him. “We have thought he was a human creation meant to destroy us. But things have changed. Wilbur and Tommy are facing punishment as we speak.”

A6d knew he was selfish. Even with the threat of Bad’s fate looming over his head, he’d wanted to say yes. He was so tired of walking alone. He hated humans, yet they were everywhere. No new race would destroy them like how they destroyed countless others.

In the burning museum, Dream, George and Sapnap remained, with no immortals to be seen.

_“By the way, my name’s Finn.”_


	9. Glad He's On Our Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Skeppy:** I fear no man.
> 
> **Skeppy:** But that thing... 
> 
> **Skeppy:** (points at a pickaxe) 
> 
> **Skeppy:** ... _it scares me_.

It wasn’t long until Bad heard voices. By logic, he shouldn’t be hearing anything, especially not after being struck with a bolt of lightning that nearly turned his insides into a stir fry. But he can hear them—Dream, George, Sapnap and A6d, all buzzing around him frantically. What were they doing? He heard a bottle shattering. His potions.

Were they trying to heal him? … how nice of them, to be honest.

He’s faced worse before. He was tortured in a cell for years until Skeppy and A6d finally tracked him down and rescued him from the chamber. It was an experience he would never forget, even if he could barely recall the pain he’d felt. There were humans with him, too, but they never lasted long. At most, he would see one for a week or two, then their broken bodies would be dragged off and thrown into a mountain of corpses. There were magic suppressors everywhere, and he’d recognized them to be from ancient times, strong enough to block out the most of his own powers.

It was the reason why he gained the desire to protect the human race. There were vile humans out there, but many more were innocent and deserved no pain.

When he woke again, however, he was greeted with an empty room; so void of sound that it might as well been a tomb. The door was wide open, with potion bottles scattered everywhere on the floorboards. Some broken, some still intact, but they would require at least another week of brewing to restock. He thanked whatever deity lived in him that he was allowed to dabble in alchemy. He’d be completely useless otherwise.

Where were they? Bad looked around, and realized that apart from their belongings, the others’ weapons were gone, like they’d rushed into a fight at the very last second. He turned his body, supporting his balance with his arm on the bed, and sat sideways. He was still wearing his boots as well as his clothes. They were charred beyond repair, courtesy of that lightning.

However, the wound on his chest was completely healed, leaving not even a scar behind. The ripped leather jacket was the only proof of his initial injury. Otherwise, he could pass off as a pristine demon. Even he himself was surprised by this—he doesn’t have any special healing abilities, so this came as a shock. Did they manage to find the right concoction for his wounds? Did one of them cast healing magic? He didn’t know. He would have to ask them later.

That is, if he could even _find_ them.

At that very moment, the door slammed open, revealing a disheveled group. They were intact, but they looked like they’d just ran a marathon and a half. “Bad!” Dream shouted, clutching his iron sword as if it were his anchor. He blinked when he realized that the demon was awake. “Bad, you’re okay!”

Bad tilted his head. “Of course I’m okay, you little muffin.” He rose to his feet, stretching his shoulders and yawning. He felt refreshed after that nap. “Are you muffins alright? Did something happen?” He took note that A6d wasn’t with them. Maybe he already left. He wasn’t one to stay in one place for too long.

“How—” George spoke up, gesturing at Bad. “How are we supposed to explain this? I’m too weirded out by everything that’s happening.” He turned to Sapnap. “Sap, you do it.”

Sap jumped in his skin, glaring at the brunette. “The heck? Do you think I understand what’s been going on for the past _week_? I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this two days ago!”

Dream frowned at him. “You didn’t even have breakfast. You said all you needed was the fresh scent of tea and you passed out from sleep deprivation.”

No one continued the topic about George’s obsession with tea. For all they knew, he was just out of his usual self and his British genes are taking over.

“Hey, Bad,” Sapnap said, pointing a finger at the demon. “Do you feel okay? Any changes?”

Bad shrugged. “Yes, I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“No, no; that’s not what I was asking.” His frown etched deep into his features, his grip tightening around his shield. Stepping closer to the demon, he raised the defensive tool towards him, and arched the angle just right so he could see his own face.

Bad stared at his reflection, a stark contrast on the polished wooden surface.

“What?” he rasped, his voice reduced to a mere whisper. Shell-shocked, he put his hand on the shield and lowered it, his fingernails sharper than knives.

It was the face he never wanted to see again. The face that led a kingdom to its despair. The face that sent millions of innocent souls to their demise. Blood red eyes, dark obsidian skin, prominent scarlet horns and sharpened teeth. The face of a true demon.

Over the years, his appearance changed slowly but surely, all to fit in with the other humans. His horns grew smaller into his hair and his skin turned lighter shades. His fingernails were blunt and so were his teeth. The more he practiced healing and warmth, the more human he looked. But now, he looked just exactly like his younger self: heartless and remorseless, ruling over a kingdom with an iron fist.

“So,” George started, mouth dry. “You _really_ are a demon.”

Bad winced at the flatness of his tone. Humans were taught that demons were the darkest of beings, reincarnations of evil itself. To finally realize that they’ve been travelling with one for so long, it was sure to turn the gears in their heads. Would they see him as a threat? Someone dangerous and unstable? Bad dreaded to know the answer. He couldn’t read minds, but their blank expressions were enough to make him to desire becoming one with the floor.

“I’ll leave the team, if you’re not comfortable with _this_.” Bad gestured to himself. He gritted his teeth and cringed; he wasn’t used to the unusually sharp canines that fit in perfectly with the other row of teeth.

Dream raised his hands. “No, Bad, calm down,” he said quickly. “We’re just surprised, that’s all.” George and Sapnap nodded hastily. “You… weren’t kidding when you said you were twenty-five thousand years old?”

Bad shook his head.

“Oh.” The blonde clutched his head. “Okay. _Wow_.”

“Dude, how is that even possible?” George demanded. “Is it exactly from that book? The one Dream found in that library?” His eye twitched as Bad nodded. “Oh, god. Bad, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, you muffinhead.” Bad picked at his horns. They weren’t too large to hinder his daily life, but the extra weight was painfully noticeable. “If I were any of you, I wouldn’t believe it either. Just like I didn’t believe that humans could destroy so many civilizations even without magic.” His voice turned sour at the last statement.

His glasses were gone, too. Before, he looked nerdier and less harmful with them, even with his abnormal skin and appearance. Now, without them and his new form, it took zero effort to see the darkness lingering in him. No wonder demons were depicted as cunning and evil—they looked the part.

“Anyway, what happened when I was out?”

The trio turned to each other, their expressions conflicted and pointed, but none of them were explaining just yet. Eventually, Dream and George collectively nudged Sapnap forward, pinning all the work to him. The shielder glowered at them, but filled Bad in nonetheless.

“Gemhumans and Spirits.” Bad’s eyes widened at the mention of unhuman beings. He gripped Sapnap’s shoulder anxiously, his eyes flared with panic. “Are you sure? They can be easily be mistaken as Ghosts or a nine-tailed fox illusion!”

Sapnap leaned backwards, not sure what to feel when he’s being shaken by his demon friend. “A6d said it himself,” he said. “They’re not human. And the spirit did say they can’t possess each other because they’re both spirits or something similar like that.”

Bad couldn’t believe his own ears. He vaguely remembered getting run through with a trident, and everything went black when he heard thunder. It was a _Spirit_ than ran him through? And he had a gemhuman companion? Judging from the description, it wasn’t Skeppy. Skeppy was made of pure diamond, mostly blue in color, mixed in with some colorless fragments, but they blended in with the turquoise crystals. This new gemhuman had three different colors altogether, consisting of different gemstones each.

“Why haven’t I heard of them before?” Bad asked to no one in particular. His voice was so low that only he could hear. “I should’ve at least known of their existence. I’ve conquered every country at least _once_!” His frown grew deeper. “Except for…”

He froze.

* * *

“Why are we in such a hurry?” Dream asked, adjusting his helmet as they headed towards the portal. It was located somewhere in the palace, and they were headed that way. “It’s in the middle of night. And shouldn’t you be resting, Bad?”

“I’m fine,” he assured him. “Besides, the country’s going to go into chaos, since that museum is destroyed. We should head there now before the country goes into lockdown to locate the arsonist.”

There was a brief silence, only because George was struggling to keep his goggles on his face while trying to slip his helmet on.

“And why do you know that?” Sapnap asked.

Bad shrugged. “It’s common sense.” A flood of soldiers marched past them, wielding spears and shields. “And a bit of observation.” He pulled his hood further, making sure that his features were hidden. He was forced to purchase new clothes after his old ones were burnt to ash, but there wasn’t much difference. He had a black cloak, one that reached down to his ankles and could cover the majority of his face. He’d cut holes out for where his horns, praying that they would be interpreted as decoration.

Still, a figure clad in black with a group of armored adventurers? That was never a good sign, no matter in what era.

“That makes sense,” George muttered. “But what if we can’t get back? Are they doing to destroy the portal?”

Bad glanced at people hammering wood onto their windows. “Then we relight it.”

“How? Magic? We don’t exactly have knowledge in building portals.”

“I do.” Bad turned to the front. He could see the castle gates. They were still sickeningly black and spiked, unwelcoming towards outsiders. That might have changed, but the décor certainly didn’t. “I’m the reason why portal construction is banned. Though that was a long time ago.”

For someone who was on the verge of crying into a ball two days ago, Bad turned a 180 when it came to actual danger and risks. Dream wasn’t sure how to handle this change, especially seeing the calmed manipulative expression on the demon’s face. He didn’t know whether if Bad was aware of it, but he looked every bit like a cunning demon the storybooks depicted them to be.

“Well, as long as it’s not too dangerous and it’s quick,” Dream said finally. “So our plan is to find a fortress, get some blaze rods and dip?”

This time, Bad finally gave him a physical response, even if it was just a curt nod. He preferred the old Bad more—the one that cried at dead fish and called people muffinheads. Maybe he would come back, or maybe not. Or maybe this new Bad would decide their usefulness was up and eradicate their existence with the flick of his finger.

“Hate to rain on your parade,” Sapnap grunted, tilting his head at the palace gates. They were here, the gates wide open, looking every bit of unwelcoming and murder. “But this doesn’t look like a welcoming party.”

A legion of soldiers stood behind the gates, all pointing their weapons at them.

George’s voice turned to a whisper. “Maybe we should break a law or two by building a portal ourselves.” Even Dream was clutching his sword, dreading the confrontation. Only Bad was calm throughout all of this, only because he could stand here and watch them age into their late nineties while they die with bad backs.

The lead soldier, who Dream presumed was the general, emerged from the soldiers. Unlike the other soldiers, his shoulder pads were spiked and tipped with gold. He wondered how the man didn’t impale his own neck while turning to someone calling his name.

“State your business,” he said formally. He was looking at Bad, because he was standing at the very front and didn’t look like he was about to pass out from fear. He must have presumed that Bad was their leader—though, at this point, they should just give him the title—from his calm composure. “Only authorized personnel are allowed to pass through these gates.”

Bad stared at him. He was around Dream’s height, which was puny compared to the general, but he stood his ground with dignity. Without a word, he dug into his cloak, and pulled out something that made the general drop to his knees in respect. Before Dream could see what it was, Bad already pocketed it, and the whole army of soldiers simultaneously fell to one knee, bowing their heads to Bad, all the while parting a way for him.

“We don’t have all day.” Bad turned to them. Only his mouth was visible from his hood. Not even his scorching red eyes could be seen from the shadow of the drooping cloth. “Let’s hurry before daybreak comes.”

He wasn’t fazed. Not one bit.

Dream swallowed, sheathing his sword. Bad was a completely different person, and somehow he could tell that it wasn’t because of his change in appearance. Perhaps his innocence was the fake persona, and this is his true self underneath. He had a history longer than the entire human race combined, a life far more complicated than any war.

He never thought he would say something like this, but he’ll gladly say it in regards of his friend:

_I’m glad he’s on our side._


	10. Gold

Before they’d explore the nether, Bad made a request: they would make a detour, then they’d search for the fortress. It wasn’t much of a request, but a demand. His tone was flat and deep, as if he’s being forced to face a past he was never proud of, with nothing but lingering disappointment for himself. The way he said it was uncanny, and it urged Dream to fulfill his every wish.

“There’s a tunnel,” Bad explained, guiding them through the hellscape. They were stepping on red moss, a flora that was only exclusive to the nether’s environment. Crimson, twisted trees grew around them, glowing red veins protruding from its bark. “A tunnel to above the nether roof.”

Usually, Sapnap would laugh and swing his arm around Bad’s shoulder. The top of the nether was covered in layers and layers of impenetrable bedrock—the hardest substance known to mankind. Not even the most potent of mages could move one piece, let alone destroy a chunk large enough for a human to crawl through. But Bad wasn’t kidding. He never was. All they could do was follow in silence.

 _Snap. Snap. Snap_. No matter where George stepped, there would be roots on the floor. Their structure was erratic, a plant that grew wildly from the corrupted lands, with thorns coating every side of its surface. They didn’t harm him, but he could feel the tips grazing on his iron boots, scratching the very surface of his wear. If he wasn’t wearing them, he realized, his feet would be a bloody waterfall from every angle of his skin.

Unlike the Overworld, the air was thick and acidic, with hints of ash and molten metal. He couldn’t tell whether if something died nearby, or it was a natural scent that the unnatural trees produced. His lungs felt like corroding, ash piling up on his throat, but it never was. Perhaps it was his own imagination, but every part of the nether screamed: _You Do Not Belong Here_.

It was a place of torment and agony. Living, unrotting beings like him weren’t supposed to be intruding upon the land of weeping and anger. The last time they’ve trudged through the portal, it’d been a complete accident, and they barely made it out with their lives, chased by vicious pigmen with crossbows and golden swords. He couldn’t remember much of the event, like a blur in a dream, but he remembered clearly that Bad was the one that found that portal.

Now that he thought about it, _had_ it been an accident?

Sapnap, who was in front of him, came to a halt and stood still. George caught himself just before he collided with the younger, his hand reaching upwards to prevent his helmet from falling. He craned his head to the front, cursing his height under his breath, to see that the others also paused in their footsteps. Dream was standing still, clutching the hilt of his sword, his head turned to check on his friends.

Bad’s breathing was strangely audible, like a deep, scared breath echoing in a deep, dark cave. “We’re here.”

From the nether wall of blood and ash, was a battered entrance to a mineshaft, built of blackstone and nether brick leading into the darkest parts of hell itself, with broken rails as their path to the unknown. Unlike the Overworld’s mineshafts they encountered in the past, the nether equivalent of the structure proved to be more ominous, and reeked of death and anguish instead of rotting bodies and poison.

George swallowed, his knees turning to jelly. Horror blossomed in his gut, his fingers trembling as the demon marched straight inside, his dark clothing blending in with the haunted blackness. He felt like if he ever entered, there would be no return, his soul trapped in the echoing walls as an addition to its blackened curse. They were walking on ground where blood was spilt beyond comprehension. The grounds here were darker than the ones outside. Death had been a frequent happening around here—and he couldn’t tell whether if they were recent or ancient.

If it wasn’t for Dream shaking his shoulders, snapping him out of his stupor, he wouldn’t have ever moved. He might very well stand there, staring at the entrance until the ceiling collapsed, and he’d only have the memory of an eerie mine, and his last moments as the debris rained around him.

“Come on,” said the blonde. His voice was strangely deep, his calmness forced. “We’re going in together, okay? Bad knows what he’s doing.”

 _I hope_ , were the words he didn’t say. George nodded, eyeing Sapnap’s indecisive fidgeting. They all knew what they were getting into; and despite the odds, they’d trust one of their own, even if he was a being that would outlive them and quite possibly the human race. Turning their back on him just didn’t sit right with either of them, no matter what situation he would drag them into.

Bad’s behavior was starting to unnerve them, but they didn’t know what was happening behind the seams just yet. Something tells George that they’ll never understand, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. With shaking arms, George held his sides, and ventured into the same path that his healer had taken. Somewhere unknown, somewhere forbidden.

* * *

When George assumed they were going to die, he did not expect for it to actually happen.

The tunnel was wide and tall, with netherrack stretching into the dark, the floor crumpling under the weight of its brick pillars and rails. The air was uncomfortably thick with marinated sweat and the lingering stench of leather, as if the latter was soaked in the former for years and dried into clumps of a terrible air refresher.

He was walking between his friends, and both of them were battle-ready; Dream held his sword, the glint of his bladed strangely reddish under the cover of darkness, as if reflecting the cries of the unrestful souls. It looked like a burning blade, fueled by the agony and sorrow from the ones who came before them, and failed to make it out alive. Would they join their ranks? Would they become another piece in the demon’s chessboard? The further they gambled their luck by entering, the lesser their chances of survival were.

Sooner or later, something would open up from the walls and swallow them alive. George could see it happening, despite his vision being a sea of yellow and vomit green. From Dream’s description, the world around them was red, red, and even _more_ red; but to George and his colorblindness, the only thing he could see was different shades of nepeta green.

But after only minutes of continuous walking, the walls began to fade into pure black. Dream frowned, raising his blade in caution, and approached the wall, tracing his fingers on the jagged, uneven surface.

“This isn’t netherrack,” he said, taking his fingers off. He stared at his hands, clean despite the dark surface that made the wall. “This is bedrock.”

George shook his head. “You know what?” He sighed. “That’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to us.” He scratched his head. “At least, in just this week. Notch knows what’s going to happen in the next one… _if_ we live to see the next one.”

Like a cue in a theater, a screech emerged from the very end of the tunnel, echoing and amplified into their ears. It was high-pitched, not like Bad’s; instead, it sounded sickly familiar, like a rotting monster with the ability to express pain and hatred. They’ve heard their screams before, and it was coming from a place where they did not understand. And Bad was _alone_.

They did not think twice as they raised their weapons and sprinted forward. Fear of the nether’s deepest parts lingered in them, but their friend’s safety would come first. It wasn’t a long journey, either; their shock was playing tricks on their mind, lying to them that the tunnel was longer than it originally was. Their boots clashed on the bedrock, the sound of iron on stone echoing in the space, but the adrenaline in their head was enough to bring their senses back to life. Some part of them were grateful that they’d heard it, as they were no longer standing around doubting, but Bad was facing unexplained mobs alone. Demon or not, he would need help—

The screeching started to get louder now, with more and more mobs joining in. It was like a symphony without a chorus, a ballade without a script. Their ears began to ring from the high-pitched screaming, but the fear blossoming in their stomachs outweighed the discomfort in their head.

The path was leading upwards, slowly but surely, and it was heading towards the world beyond the nether’s hell-like world, a place where no one lived to see. As their feet left the final steps of jagged bedrock, they plunged themselves into an infinite space, the air tinged red with no sky or sun. The terrain around them was flat, with the floor of bedrock without an end. And standing only a few feet away from them, where the screeching originated, was a slaughterhouse.

It was a wall of glass, a massive dome without a ceiling. Floors of magma emitted what bit of light it had, illuminating the glass wall with a shade of orange, along with the gruesome scene that would happen. From the ground, zombified piglins burst into life, swords, armors or bows already clutched in their stumpy hands and in their possession. They would look around in curiosity, then notice the eggs at one end of the dome, and sprinted towards it like mindless beasts. However, as soon as they noticed the eggs, the ground opened up beneath them, and dozens of piglins fell into a dark space, and their screeches came to a halt.

The cycle continued, repeated, and continued, but despite their cries of pain as they were being killed, young piglins’ heartbreaking shrieks as they were disintegrated with their parents, Bad’s expression did not change one bit.

Dream felt sick. “Bad?” he managed to say, staring through the glass in horror. The piglins spawned again, only to charge at the eggs and fall to their deaths. “What is this?”

Bad stared blankly as a new batch of piglins spawned. “A gold farm.” He turned on his heels, and gestured to the edge of the dome. There were contraptions; mostly item sorters and chests that would be comparable to a palace’s storage room. “This was built to supply Gateau with gold. It provided so much that it is no longer needed—but this was still running, and no one came to check.”

George, skeptically, walked towards the chests and opened the bottom one. His eyes widened as golden nuggets spilt from the chest, filled to the brim with pure gold. There were hundreds of others just like them, and they weren’t touched for a long time. If anyone outside Gateau were to discover this, they’d become a rich man with only a handful of gold nuggets.

“But why kill them?” Sapnap demanded, holding his stomach. “Can’t you just ask them to give you their swords _nicely_?”

Bad shook his head. His hair swayed with him. It was lighter than his skin color, as it hadn’t changed when he reverted his form. “Zombified piglins are a special mob,” he explained. “Their flesh contains as much gold as regular piglins crave them. By removing their flesh, golden nuggets are extracted. It’s an efficient farm.” He eyed the insides of the dome. Another round of screeches boomed through the void. “T _oo_ efficient, perhaps.”

He headed over to the chests and began rummaging through them, but it wasn’t the ones with the gold. He was looking at swords, with golden blades and all on the verge of breaking. His face darkened when he didn’t find what he wanted.

“Then… can we, like, take some of this?” George asked, already holding a sack of apples. “We can make tons of golden apples with this. No one’s going to use it, right?” He shot towards Dream and Sapnap. _“Right?”_

Bad shrugged. “Take what you like,” he vamped. “But make gold ingots first. Nine golden nuggets to make the perfect golden ingot for golden apples. Too more or too less will spoil the result.” His words made Dream think he’s had plenty of experience with them, but then again, he is their healer. The amount of potions he could craft in a short amount of time was implausible.

With a dry tone, he continued:

“I’ll try harder this time.”

They didn’t know what he meant, but he wasn’t going to explain, and they knew that.

Bad closed his eyes, drowning out the screeches and the chests’ opening.

The image of his friends nearly dying by the hands of the Wither was still fresh, despite it being so long ago.


	11. Portal

_I’m sorry, Badboyhalo._

_I’m not sure if I can forgive you._

“Bad?” Dream asked, wary of the elder’s growing silence. The demon had been silent for moments now, even as he and his friends began to raid chest upon chest for golden nuggets or golden bars. Nuggets were far more common than ingots, which he could only assume that full bars only dropped by chance. By the time they’ve gone through all of their apples—which was five stacks and a half—Bad has still yet to move from his spot, his gaze faraway and distant.

Like a spell being undone, the demon blinked, his eyes widening as if he’s snapped to his senses. He turned to the human, his face no longer contorted in somberness nor an inexplicable grief. His expression was one of genuine innocent, surprise that he was called.

“Yes?” he asked, sounding much more like the Bad he was familiar with. “Are you guys done?” He tilted his head at the floor full of golden scraps, remains of their little expedition. “That’s nice. We should get going now; the nether fortress won’t find itself.”

Dream nodded, but his posture was stiff. “Yeah,” he agreed meekly. “We should.”

* * *

“How many?”

Finn turned to him, his coral blue hair swaying behind his shoulders, with the shape of princess curls but blue. His eyes were startlingly neon-orientated, with a hot pink rim surrounding a splash of yellow. If A6d hadn’t known he was non-human, he would have spent his nights twisting and turning, wondering how someone could have such abnormal eye colors.

“Pardon?” he asked, tucking strands behind his ear. They were pointy like fins, with tints of sapphire blue dotted with emeralds. “Can you elaborate?”

A6d kept his gaze elsewhere. They were in a forest, far from the kingdom. He’d abandoned his friend— _if_ he could call Bad a friend anymore. Bad’s dedicated his entire life searching for others like them, and A6d was talking to another race that shared their eternal life.

“How many others.” A6d’s voice was raspy, carrying what little disbelief that leaked through his tone. “You said ‘us.’”

Finn hummed, nodding as he recalled the previous night’s events. “You’ll know when you get there.” He continued threading forward, powering through the forest’s grounds despite being barefoot. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to meet you. It’s been so long since we’ve seen a new face. If I had to listen to Vurb talking about toes for another second, I’ll cut his fingers off and feed it to dogs. But then again, I don’t advocate animal abuse, so that idea’s off the table.”

They haven’t met long, but Finn was talking to A6d as if he were a longtime friend. “Vurb?” A6d noticed, catching the name in Finn’s little rant.

“He’s a demimonster,” Finn explained casually. “He’s fucking weird. Don’t let him intimidate you.”

 _Demimonster_ , A6d noted, catching the unfamiliar name. Through the years, he’s experienced the cultures of different magical races firsthand, but many were wiped out before he even heard of their existences. Humans were swift in colonizing the land—eradicating races that wasn’t them. Another reason why humans shouldn’t be allowed so much power, but they had no say. The weak will always be crushed by the strong, and humans were strong in numbers.

Through silence, A6d could see many weaknesses and facts that Finn carried. How he walked without shoes, meaning that he isn’t born on land; how Finn would glance at the slightest sound of water; how he reacted when they walked past a decayed fairy circle, once filled with bright, colorful flowers that would house a fairy. Now, it was withered as magic began to die.

A6d bit his lip. To the uneducated human, this forest would seem calm and serene. However, to them, this forest was filled with death and gloom. The silence was a song that would forever mourn the dead. The land they stepped on was a tomb for all the lives that were lost to those wretched humans, burying blood that was spilt from different eras.

“To be honest,” Finn hummed. “I’m a big fan of your voice. I remember your show back in the steampunk century… and I think you’re suitable for a particular mission.”

A6d paused. “What mission?”

Finn turned, smiling. “Oh, you’ll see. It’s simple, I can guarantee you that.” His teeth were sharp, just like a siren’s. Sirens feasted on human flesh and drank their blood like nectar. “You’re going to be a new addition for our little group!”

* * *

Bad didn’t like the nether—he really didn’t. The last time he’d been here of his own volition, it’d been to destroy the layer of bedrock to create a pathway for the gold farms they’ve just raided. He showed less restraint when he was younger, abusing his powers around humans and weaker beings in order for them to fear him; but that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want others to be afraid of him. He wanted them to be his friends.

But now, as he threaded across the crimson floor of the hellish landscape, the more he felt as if he were an outsider in this world. Demons were depicted as a species that resided in the depths of hell and swam through lava. He was written as a race that wielded pitchforks with wings of blood and fire. But that wasn’t true at all. Bad was born in the overworld, just like everyone else.

It was only a matter of _when_.

“Still no fortress?” George rasped, wiping sweat from his brow. His bottle of water was nearly empty, and the heat didn’t help their case one bit. They were running low on water, and they would have to leave soon, lest they die of dehydration. Bad couldn’t feel thirst, so he could only assume that it would be unbearable from a scale from a stab in the back to a papercut.

Bad squinted to the far end of their path. He saw only endless seas of red with glowstone hanging from ceilings. He couldn’t even see a burning lava pool that made 60% of the nether. Far from the portal and water supply depleting, leaving would be the wisest choice.

“No,” he replied dryly. “We should head back. We’re almost out of water, and that’s not prime condition to be finding blaze rods. You know you have to kill monsters to get those, right?”

Dream glanced at his bottle of water. It was empty. He frowned beneath his mask as he realized the demon’s words made sense. “Yes,” he agreed. “Heading back and regrouping seems to be the best option we have. Let’s go back to the portal.”

Bad shook his head. “I can make a portal.” In his hands, he produced a jagged rock. It was pitch black, with purple engravings that couldn’t be read. It glowed slightly, but it was difficult to tell due to the dark surface of the stone.

He threw it a few feet from them like he was pitching in a baseball game. The rock skidded on the ground, and stopped after seconds. Then, the lavender markings began to shine brightly, which the ground swallowed the rock whole, leaving only a purple mist behind. A portal frame abruptly rose from the floor, like a zombie coming to life in the form of obsidian. It was a mere frame without a portal, yet to be lit.

“I also forgot to mention,” Bad noted, barely catching onto the details of interdimensional transportation. “For every mile we take in the nether, it’s eight miles in the overworld. We’re going to end up in unknown territory, possibly hostile, so prepare your weapons.”

His fingertip glowed red as he raised it to the empty frame. To his magic, the frame vibrated violently and a familiar purple aura raised from the insides, coagulating and gathering into a gateway. They couldn’t see what awaited them on the other side; it was an unknown mystery waiting to be uncovered.

“Let’s go.”

Bad stepped into the portal, his billowing cloak phasing and following him through.

The humans glanced at each other, uncertain, deciding to trust the demon’s words. Hesitantly, they walked through the frame, and opened their eyes to a whole new world.

It was a forest. The portal was hidden in a forest, where it was covered by trees and vines alike. They were right next to a town’s borders, where merchants drove horses with carriages into town to sell their wares. Nobody noticed them, even as Bad stared at them from behind a berry bush.

“Did anyone leave anything behind?” Bad swiveled to them, calmer now. He was bouncing back to his old self. The nether had an unsightly effect on him that brought back ugly memories. “I’ll be destroying this portal now. Last chance to go back!”

Nobody went back.

Bad smiled, humming a nonsensical tune about muffins as he hacked the portal into pieces with nothing but his bare hands and magic. With every swipe of his finger, the portal fell to pieces, and the shards of obsidian melted into the ground, as if it never existed to begin with. He felt so much better, mentally wise, as the nether was a place where he truly despised.

“Hey, Bad?” Sapnap asked, wary. Bad turned to him, his face one of innocence and curiosity. “You… alright now? You were acting kind of strange before.”

Bad tilted his head. “Oh! Sorry about that.” Another piece of obsidian crumbled behind him. “I don’t like the nether very much, you know? Humans make all sorts of accusations that I belong there, but I was born here just like you! Hypocritical, am I right?”

The male frowned. “No, but—” He coughed. “You never used that magic before. Now you’re using it like nobody’s business. Why didn’t you use it when you met us?”

Dream and George leaned closer. They wanted to know too.

“My magic?” Bad repeated. “Well, there’s not much to tell. My magic’s only good for destruction and death.” He shut the topic down by pointing at the borders. There was a new town in there, one that they didn’t know the name of. “Let’s go and resupply. Quite convenient, don’t you think?”

The town’s laws were much more lenient and loser than Gateau’s. Then again, to be fair, Gateau resembled an extremist country that consisted of extremists and demon-angel worshippers. Anything was sunshine and rainbows compared to that. They got into town without much trouble, and paid a fee of two iron nuggets for their entry,

Though, from the corner of Sapnap’s eyes, he swore he caught a familiar flash of blue.


	12. Weird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad, talking about him, A6d and Skeppy: We share one braincell, and it's always malfunctioning.

A6d would never admit it, but he always had a passion for music. Even if Bad and Skeppy already knew about his guilty pleasure, they never brought it up or forced him to. Each one of them had secrets that they preferred would rot in a ravine somewhere, never seeing the light of day. Just because A6d was the youngest out of all of them, it didn’t mean he didn’t have any.

So now, he wondered, why was he standing on a stage above a crowd, holding a microphone behind a siren?

It didn’t help that Wilbur, the spirit who was out for his blood earlier, was only few feet away from him, holding a mic of his own as he did his best to ignore him. Fantastic times. If only A6d still invested his energy into his reactions for surprises, then it would make this whole situation funnier and bearable. Sadly, he was pushed into a performance, thrust into a concert as a stupid backup singer.

“Again, why are we doing this?” he hissed to Finn, who was fixing his hair as he waved to the cheering audience below. “And why is he here?”

Finn didn’t turn to him, but he acknowledged his question. “Did you know Wilbur can actually sing?” Finn asked to no one but himself. “Sure he’s grumpy twenty-four seven, but put him in front of a mic and a piano and suddenly he’s better that human DJ Faster.”

A6d grunted. Of course he would know. “You didn’t answer my question,” he groused. “You’re a Siren; so why do you need me to be here? Do you expect me to sing in front of these people?”

The Siren flashed a sweet smile to the crowd. It was difficult to believe that he was of the male gender, with his sharp jawline and feminine shapes, but Sirens didn’t sing with their speaking voice. They weave magic into their songs, reflecting a mirror image of their works. If A6d would have to describe it, he would call it _Hypnotizing_. (That’s the whole point of a Siren, but he’s not correcting himself.)

“Yes, I do.” Finn nudged him backwards. “You’ve got a good baritone to match Wilbur’s. Just follow my lead. Or have you suddenly developed stage fright after facing off against the Wither?”

_ The Wither _ . A6d swallowed, keeping his eyes on the Siren’s back as he left to his space. Wilbur was right next to him, flanking the back of Finn’s left. He shot glances at A6d, but it was more of hesitance than pure hatred.

Gateau worshipped Bad as a god because he’d defeated the Wither, but in the books, it was depicted as their win. A6d and Skeppy may also be respected, but not much as Bad. The extremists were extremely adamant about this; he could barely find A6d shirts in the stall by the church. It’s not that he’s salty or anything—yeah, it’s not like he didn’t almost die while fighting the Wither. Let the guy with the stupidest healing magic take all the fame.

He tried to not think about it. While it was true that he didn’t contribute much to that fight and let Skeppy take the Wither all by himself, it wasn’t fair that Bad got all the fame. He didn’t even _like_ being recognized by anyone except for them! Skeppy should have got the credit for his own win, not stay silent while Bad takes all the glory.

“Hello, everybody!” Finn’s voice boomed from the steampunk microphone, his voice broadcasting over the arena-like stadium. Now, he sounded like a woman, his original voice completely hidden. The audience’s eyes began to dilute. “Thank you for coming to Rose’s concert today, and I want every single one of you to open your ears and listen to the music!”

A6d glanced at Finn, then to Wilbur, who wasn’t phased by Finn’s voice or magic in the slightest. 

_ Oh _ , he thought, swallowing. _Is that why he’s doing all of this?_

As the colourful lights flashed on stage like magic, Finn smiled to his audience, and sang.

* * *

“Can we stop somewhere for a second?” Bad asked, holding his head. “I don’t feel very good.”

George turned to him. _Bad_ and _don’t feel very good_ don’t go in the same sentence. Bad might not seem like it, but he has the highest endurance than any of them, and possibly everyone on the planet. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. 

Bad shook his head. “The air’s weird. I don’t like it.”

Huh, George looked around, sniffing. There wasn’t anything out of place, other than a distinct sweetness. In fact, he felt lighter, like all his old pains and wounds just disappeared from his body. He felt like he could swing his sword for hours without feeling tired, or run a whole marathon and still have energy for two more. If anything, Bad’s the one who’s weird.

“Maybe it’s just the nether?” George suggested kindly, trying to not let his voice turn defensive. He was still on edge after realizing that he was a demon. “You said it yourself. You don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Bad agreed. “But that’s just a feeling, you know. Not making my body feel like it’s going to implode any second.”

Dream turned, positively concerned. “Maybe you’re just feeling under the weather.” He pocketed the map after giving up searching for the country’s name. “Have you never caught a cold before? It’s a human disease. Maybe it’s the demon equivalent of that.”

Bad groaned, producing a broken radio frequency from his throat. Next to him, George’s eardrums ached and protested. “Demons don’t get sick, you muffin. Maybe I’m tired.”

“Could you hold up for a few hours?” Dream tried. “We’ll split up and get supplies so it’s faster. Then we’ll set up camp somewhere.”

The demon nodded listlessly and laid his forehead on George’s shoulder. George was alarmed to feel Bad’s skin burning up as if he had a fever. For humans, it would be considered severe, and they’d put Bad into the nearest hospital. But Bad was a demon, and they didn’t know how a demon worked. They didn’t know how to care for their friend, and there was no instruction manual.

Or was there?

“I’ll go with Bad,” Dream volunteered. “You two go restock on our food supply and water. We’re going to see if we can find decent armour anywhere in the markets. If you don’t see us by the city gates by sundown, then look for us at a hospital somewhere.”

George and Sapnap nodded. If anyone had the strength to carry Bad when he’s passed out, it would be Dream. He knew Bad the longest, after all. When they parted ways, Dream nudged Bad’s elbow and got his attention. Bad turned to him, but his movements were slower than how he would usually react.

“Do you need to lie down somewhere?” Dream frowned. “We could get the armour later. I’m more worried about your condition.”

Bad shook his head. “I’m fine.” His voice cracked with exhaustion. His black skin turned a shade lighter. “I’ve experienced worse. I can rest after we get everything we need.”

“Are you sure—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bad insisted. “I’m sure.”

Pursing his lips, Dream knew when he was going into an argument that he couldn’t win. Despite his quick wits and knowledge, it would do nothing against stubbornness and a will that resembled a bedrock wall. 

“Fine then,” Dream decided. “Just don’t push yourself – demon or not. I care about you, Bad. I’m your friend.”

_ We won’t be after you know what I’ve done _ . Bad swallowed his words. He flashed a thumbs up to masked blond, and followed him into the market.

It’s particularly empty but loud in the city today. Maybe there’s a concert somewhere.


	13. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad: Violence isn't the answer, nor is it a question.
> 
> Bad: But is a hypothesis and I'm testing that theory. *runs after Skeppy and A6d with a crossbow*

“What is it that you want in this city?” A6d peeled his gaze from the hypnotized crowd and set it on the Siren. “Do you feed on human flesh or something? What’s the point of getting human attention?”

Finn scoffed, pulling at his hair. It had turned bright pink and he didn’t like the shade of it. “Man, for someone who lived for so long, you sure don’t know much about the world other than your little home in Gateau.” He turned, tearing his one-piece dress away and revealing leather armor underneath. “This country might not have a name, but it’s famous for its healing. The same place where the Wither was created. Or did you not know that, and you only went to kill it?”

“How do you know that it was made here—”

“Wilbur?” Finn swiveled to the taller Spirit, who was leaning against the wall in boredom. “Can you go and check whether if there’s any stragglers nearby?”

Wilbur shrugged and left outside.

A6d grunted indignantly. If they were the ones that asked him to join them, they sure were taking their sweet time relaying information to him. Maybe it was because that he was friends with the demon they tried to kill. Or maybe they just didn’t trust him because he was a famous legend of some sorts. Or maybe they were just dicks. Notch knows what they’re trying to pull.

By us, how many did he mean?

“Alright, lovelies!” Finn called to the crowd. “I want you all to go grab something you fill water with and follow me!”

The crowd shuffled and spread out with dazed expressions. Finn curled his lip at the noise of footsteps echoing in the theatre.

“Are you going to answer me or not?” A6d scowled, reaching for his bow. “You asked me to join you. I deserve some information and insight, at least. Or are you just going to kill me after you’re done with whatever you need me to do?”

Finn grunted. “Man, for someone who lived that long, you sure as hell don’t know your geography. I’ll explain this once, okay? It’s better if you don’t ask anyone else because they’re not as patient as me.”

As they waited for the human crowd to return with wooden buckets, pails, bottles or anything else (someone brought a whole bathtub, which was more than alarming than someone emptying a dozen bottles of booze for the bottles), Finn gave him a brief summary of their adjective and a bit of background history.

This town is named Guérir; well-known for their healing arts, and still in Gateau territory. The only difference between the two was that the security here wasn’t strict, as no one dared interfere with the land that people called a sanctuary. Other than their medical advancements, it was a simple village that had its everyday villagers and farming and tasks.

The one thing that made it stood out was the monument they called the Holy Lake.

“Is it filled with water that Bad showered in or something?” A6d scoffed, even though the idea wasn’t plausible. During their travels, neither of them had the need to shower like humans do because they weren’t human. They don’t secrete sweat or bodily fluids like them.

Finn shook his head. “Knowing humans, it’s a possibility,” he entertained the idea. “But the lake isn’t filled with some demon god bathwater. It’s filled with ghast tears – straight from ghasts from the nether itself.”

Ghast tears. A6d knew he’d heard of them before, and had them used on him when he was recovering from the Wither fight. The nurses mentioned that they’d used his entire supply on him, because ghast tears were extremely rare and difficult to obtain. Even with the luckiest of people, a ghast would only release one drop of tear as they died. One tear would be enough to brew three potent vials of regeneration potions. But an entire lake…

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” Finn admitted. “But somehow, a king from thousands of years ago, managed to devise a way to get nearly infinite resources.” He shook his head. “If he was still alive, getting supplies would be much easier. Humans hold grudges against the immortal for existing and now they hate us for surviving.”

 _Surviving as in stealing._ It wasn’t their fault. In a world with humans, this was the only thing they could do to survive.

“And you want to steal ghast tears. But why use humans? They’re notoriously unreliable.”

Finn turned to the open theatre. It was flooded with humans now, all holding their containers and waiting for orders.

“Most of us, like me, are dependent on magic,” Finn explained. “Ghast tears and magic don’t mix. They only work for Spirits like you and Wilbur and a handful of others. It treats magic like poison, cancelling it until it’s gone. Some of us would literally fade from existence if they even happen to touch a tear.”

A6d didn’t reply. They knew more than he expected. Weren’t Skeppy and Bad reliant on magic, too? Skeppy and Bad could enchant tools and magic without the help of lapis, but he recalled that Bad mentioned Skeppy’s magic wasn’t infinite… would it run out one day, and he would cease to exist?

“NOW,” Finn boomed, ordering the humans around like slaves. “FOLLOW ME TO THE HOLY LAKE.”

* * *

Bad was sweating buckets, yet his body felt like it was freezing into ice. Dream had taken his bag off him, but his back still slouched as if his years were finally catching up to him. At some point, his vision was so blurry that he couldn’t see colors and he walked straight into a light post, oil from the lamp dripping onto his head.

“You look worse than ever,” Dream said, positively concerned. “Are you sure you can continue?”

Bad made another broken radio frequency sound from his throat, shoulders slumped.

“We’re going to the nearest infirmary, okay?”

The demon yelped. “I’m a demon, Dream. They can’t—” Another disturbing sound. “No one can’t know that.”

“It’s pretty obvious that you’re not human already, Bad.” Dream frowned, scratching his head. It was true that they couldn’t go around telling people that they had a demon as a friend, but there was nothing they could do about his condition. Maybe it’s the nether flu that’s only contractable by demons. Or maybe he just hates being around people in general.

It could be Dream’s imagination, but he didn’t recall Bad’s horns ever having cracks.

After some debate, Bad agreed to rest at a nearby bench as Dream left to get supplies. It’s not like he could rebut, either – his head spun and legs wobbled, making him unfit for further journey. He pulled his leather cloak tighter around him, shivering as he stared at the pristine, crystal lake. His condition worsened, and he was so disorientated he could barely stand.

If he wasn’t on the verge of seeing Spifey at the gates of hell, he would have been concerned and confused about his health. In all his years, he’s been tortured, burned at a stake, stabbed, drowned, suffocated in a cave (for twenty years straight, actually), strangled and more, but this was nothing like that. It didn’t happen because someone else was trying to kill him. It was his own body that was failing him.

Somewhere, vaguely, he could hear a large crowd shuffling somewhere across the lake, but he didn’t care. Humans flock in crowds all the time like monkeys in cahoots. He leaned his head on the bench’s rest, releasing shaky breaths, and nearly released a whimper as he felt hands around his elbows.

“Bad! What the hell are you doing here?” Skeppy demanded, panicked. “You can’t be here! You need to leave, like, _right now_.”

Bad stirred from his delirium, barely registering that Skeppy had lifted him from the bench and was now giving Bad a piggyback ride. Skeppy’s body was cold, just like the diamonds he was made of, but it felt warm. Bad’s skin was colder than Skeppy’s, which wasn’t good at all.

“Ge… ppy?” he slurred, barely able to lift his head from Skeppy’s shoulder. “Is that you…?”

Skeppy grunted. “Yes, it’s me, Bad.” He started sprinting, his speed consistent despite having carrying a demon. “What the fuck were you thinking? I thought we agreed that this town was too dangerous to come to!”

“Dan… gerous?”

“Yeah! Ghast tears are poison to you, you forgot? Did travelling with humans wipe your memory or something?”

“Don’t talk about them… that way…”

Skeppy scowled, but Bad couldn’t see it. He got him away from the lake that was proclaimed the Holy Lake, barely taking note of the sight of the three immortals leading the human crowd. He’s not sure whether if A6d noticed him or not, but it’s best if he hadn’t.

* * *

“Bad, wake up.” Skeppy shook his shoulders as he propped Bad against a tree. They managed to escape town without further hassle, away from crowds and that accursed lake. Color returned to Bad’s horns and skin, but he wasn’t back to full health just yet. “Come on, Bad. You’re scaring me!”

“Mmmmhm,” Bad groaned.

“Bad!”

“Mah-phins.”

“BAD!”

“Cupca—huu— _what_? Skeppy?”

Skeppy breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of his shoulders. “Thank Spifey; your brain’s still fine,” he sniffled, grimacing at his panic. “But it’s not like there’s much left of it to be fried anyway.”

Bad blinked with notable effort, one eye squinting as he settled his gaze on the forest around them. The borders of the city were nowhere to be seen, and the sweet scent no longer hung in the air. His body felt lighter and better already, but his skin still stung like honey that’s been sticking for too long.

He turned to Skeppy, who was staring at him with a concerned face. Did Skeppy grow taller? Or did Bad turn shorter? Nobody knew, and Bad hadn’t noticed the difference when they met up for that ghost busting mission. He was too busy failing basic spells and crying over books to be taking note of such details, even if it was a sensitive topic that they both avoided after arguing for a decade. A6d didn’t bring it up either, so it was a landmine that stopped functioning.

With dry lips and tongue, he rasped, “Skeppy?”

Skeppy tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Where am I?”

This wasn’t near the lake where he and Dream should be meeting up.

Skeppy punched Bad’s elbow, just with enough force for the demon to flinch. “You idiot!” he scolded. “Did you already forget that you’re not supposed to come here? You nearly died here because of some weird poison in the air.”

Poison in the air?

“I don’t think you should remember,” Skeppy continued. “You were out of it. We had to get a carriage to carry you because you were impossible to touch.”

 _Oh_ , Bad thought. Before getting more amiable with humans, his body had been burning with the heat of a thousand suns. His clothes remained intact and so did his senses, but if anyone other than himself so much as touched him, their hands would burn and char instantly to charcoal. He changed, of course, but it still gave A6d and Skeppy minor panic attacks whenever he pulled them into a group hug.

“I don’t,” Bad agreed. “How bad was it?”

The gemhuman frowned. “Very.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“Bad, you woke up three days later and thought you got kidnapped by a Skeppy and A6d impostor. Which, by the way, would be funny if you weren’t trying to bury us in a ravine with your voodoo powers.”

“Oh, no! I’m sorry.” Bad buried his face in his hands. His past was incredibly violent, and whenever someone brought it up, he wouldn’t know how to respond. He never learned to handle his reactions and emotions in a healthy way. “Please don’t hate me, Skeppy. I really am sorry.”

Skeppy groaned, hooking his arm around Bad’s elbow to pull him to his feet. “I never hated you, Bad. It’s all in the past now.” He looked to his feet. “We’re best friends, right Bad?”

“Yeah? Of course we are, you little muffin.”

“Well, best friends don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

Bad paused. This was a weird turn in their conversation. But he was used to surprises and the unknown. This wasn’t an exception. “Of course, Skeppy.”

Skeppy’s expression turned meek, as if he was embarrassed of what he was going to say. He cupped his translucent cheek with his sleeve-covered hand, avoiding eye contact. “Why do you still like humans?” he questioned. “Why do you think that you’re their equal?”

The demon blinked – he hadn’t expected _this_.

“I mean, they’re quick to die out.” Skeppy’s voice turned soft. “And you’re letting yourself getting attached to a couple. Don’t you think that’s unnecessary heartbreak for you?”

To his surprise, Bad faltered. Perhaps it’s because of his wrecked senses, but he found himself rethinking his principals of life. Indeed, he was attached to Dream, George and Sapnap, and they were all humans. They grew old and moved on, but Bad never did. They would die and be buried six feet under, and he would still walk the roads that they once stood together. Skeppy and A6d, on the other hand, were immortal, just like him. He needn’t worry about their fates; because even if they were separated, he knew they would be fine and they woud meet up eventually.

But with humans? That was not possible. Someday Bad would be the one to plant trees and flowers by their tombstones and bound to never return as the saplings grew and buds blossomed. They would wither and die just like the humans that rested beneath them, and the planter would never return.

“I—” Bad stammered, unable to answer. He wondered if he should even go back to Dream and the others. “I don’t know, Skeppy. I don’t _know_.”

Skeppy shot him a sympathetic look, his ocean blue eyes glimmering like the most innocent of children. “You should go back to your friends, Bad,” he advised him. “Spend as much time as you can with them so you don’t regret it.”

Bad opted to argue, but he couldn’t find the capacity to. He should’ve agreed with his best friend and follow him instead! It would be like old times: just him, Skeppy and A6d – them against the world as they worried about nothing but the dozens of wanted bounties on their heads.

But yet, Skeppy pushed him towards the direction of the city’s gates, with a fair warning of to not go close to the lake, no matter the costs. Stay as far away as he could from that body of water—if that even _is_ water—and find his friends.

As Bad shuffled back to search for his friends, he didn’t notice the maniacal smile that gradually formed on Skeppy’s face.


	14. Rewrite: Chapter 1

The year is _☐☐☐☐_.

In a small town in Noniveni, there was a single herb shop. It was run by a single person, who was said to be the quietest man that they have ever met.

In a small town of Noniveni, there came a group of adventurers. They consisted of three legendary heroes whose tale spread far and wide across the land. Their feats and accomplishments were well-known amongst the public, and they were worshipped as gods.

These people were seemingly unrelated, but today, they crossed paths the second the wooden door swung open and the soft jingle of the bell echoed in the air. The man at the counter looked up from his brewery, to be faced with three adventurers, donning the armor of the legend and wielding weapons praised in songs. Their silhouettes blocked the sun’s rays, casting shadows in the shop, and lights bouncing from their weapons like jewels.

The shop owner stood to greet his customers. He did not bow or kneel down to the walking legends. He did not grovel and beg for them to buy his products. He simply smiled with his hands folded in front of him, looking up to meet their eyes as they ventured further into the tiny shop.

“May I help you?”

The leader of the party in white armor stepped forward. His white armor plates were lined with Cursed Gold.

There was a crowd manifesting outside the small herb shop. Some poured into the shop, whispering amongst themselves as they watched the heroes in person. Some were outside, poking their heads through the windows, trying to peek at the legends. Some merely squeezed through the crowd and gasped at the sight of the adventurers who wore exquisite armor in a barren town.

“Yes,” said the leader, face hidden in his hood. He said nothing more.

The shop owner nodded. His chocolate bangs swayed as he bobbed his head. “What can I help you with?”

The crowd began to murmur louder. Somewhere amongst them were slurs against the daring shop owner, who dared act so casual towards their heroes. Some other shopkeepers plotted to sabotage this poor man in order for the heroes to come to their businesses instead.

One look from the hero in a royal blue cloak was enough for them to fall silent, loud discussions fading to whispers. There was a silver diadem on this hero’s head, with a sapphire embedded on the very front.

The other hero followed his friend’s gaze. He was clad in obsidian black armor, with embers running in its crevices like magma. Spikes protruded from his shoulder pads and black diamonds decorated his wrists.

Their leader has yet to speak, and the petite shopkeeper kept his smile. His two companions remained silent, and the onlookers daren’t make a peep. The air was thick with tension, no one making a move to break it. Until the leader in white did.

“Please join our party.”

Nobody spoke. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

The shopkeeper tilted his head. There was no expression on his face, other than a gentle smile. “Why is that?”

The crowd didn’t believe their ears, but the heroes didn’t seem fazed by their leader’s decision. They stood firmly, their eyes never leaving their leader’s back.

The leader bowed with his hands on his sides. “Please,” he begged, straightening back up. He removed his mask, causing the spectators to riot, but he only showed his face to the shopkeeper. The mighty hero Dream has never taken off his mask to anybody but his companions. “Don’t you remember me? From seven years ago?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened for a split second, recognition slowly settling into his features. His monotonous smile broke out into an enthusiastic one, eyes brightening as old memories resurfaced.

“Of course I remember you!” he exclaimed, leaning towards him from the counter. He turned to the hero in black, eyes widening. “Then is that who I think it is?” The hero in black winked at him. He turned back to Dream, who put his mask back on. “Oh my goodness. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

The crowd went wild, not believing how such an eccentric shopkeeper would know the legends themselves. They were ultimately silenced by the dark hero, who finally lost his patience as he whipped to glower at them, fire flickering at his fingertips. They were chased away, and the heroes could finally be alone.

The hero in blue frowned. “You didn’t have to do that, Sap.”

Sap growled at him like a rabid dog. “They were _loud_ ,” he emphasized. “And _annoying_.”

Dream sighed at the two, turning with disappointment leaking through his mask. “Will you two quit arguing while we’re in public?” he asked. “You’re scaring everyone.” He swiveled back to the shopkeeper. “Sorry about that. By the way, he joined us a few years back, and he’s George.” He pointed to the cloaked hero. “You already know who Sapnap is.”

The shopkeeper giggled. “I sure do. He’s still loud as ever,” he admitted. Confusion settled into his voice as he confronted their leader. “But why do you want me to join? I don’t have any useful assets to contribute to the set.”

“Now _that’s_ a lie,” Dream said. “I’ve seen what you can do. It’s been a long time, but I remember you regenerating a lost limb with ease. I know high-level magic when I see it.”

“That was… what? Did I ever do that?”

Sapnap shrugged. “You did,” he said, raising an armored foot. “Because that was my leg.”

The shopkeeper stared at him, then to his leg, then back up. “Oh.” He coughed into his fist, looking away. “I’m sorry—but I can’t.” His heart ached when Dream looked crestfallen. “I’m not the type for adventures, and that’s a _really_ long time ago.”

Dream put his hands on the counter. “Come on, Bad. We need your skills.”

Bad, blushing bright red, had no idea what to do. He disliked being put on the spot like this. “I—I—well—I really can’t—”

George, who stood wordless behind Dream, finally spoke up. “If he doesn’t want to, you shouldn’t force him,” he said, frowning. “We can find other potent healers in the guild too. You don’t have to be so hung up about it.” He nodded at Bad when he shot him a grateful look.

Dream sighed, letting his friend’s words sink into his conscious for a moment. He took his hands off the counter.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He turned back to Bad, bowing again. “I’m sorry for backing you into a corner like that. I shouldn’t have done such a thing.” Dream smiled faintly and put a pouch on the counter. Gold coins spilled from the opening and onto the table. “it was nice to see you again, though. Great to know you’re doing well.”

Bad picked up the pouch and shoved it back to Dream’s hand. “The feeling is mutual.” He frowned at Dream when he wouldn’t take it. “I don’t need the money. Save it for yourself.” His frown deepened as Dream pushed it back to him. “Dream, come on—”

Dream chuckled. “Just take it, Bad. Consider it a gift for everything you’ve done for me and Sapnap when we were younger.” He took Bad’s hand and lowered it to the table. Dream was a stubborn man, and he refused to take no for an answer, no matter in what circumstance. Bad bit his tongue and let him put the money on the table again.

“Fine,” Bad grumbled, more irritated than grateful when they began to leave. “You shouldn’t waste your money like this. What if you need it?”

Sapnap turned to him, holding the door open after his friends have already left. “You know what, Bad?” he asked, grinning. “He definitely doesn’t need it.” He giggled like an immature child. “That money is pocket change to him. He gets so many gifts from everybody it’s _ridiculous_.” He ducked out before Bad could say anything more.

Bad leaned back to his brewery and sighed, pocketing the gold coins and turned back to his potions. They’ve gone bad, and it was just a horrible play on his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (13/12/2020): Accidentally referred to wrong reference sheet when writing this. Last two sentences have been deleted :D


End file.
